This chapter discusses the extent to which representations of “improper” listening are found in popular and academic literature of German and U.S. origin, for the process of reception is highly susceptible to error and interference. Indeed, despite near-ideal conditions, concert-goers are as prone to molding their experience according to subjective predilections as any other type of listener. They may not even be listening at all, despite being physically present and dependent on the musical performance. This mode of behavior as a fact of (concert) life is sometimes mentioned in recent popular books on music but seldom appears in older books; nor has it been part of musicological accounts of symphonic concerts, although scholars such as James H. Johnson (1995) and Peter Gay (1995) speak extensively about disruptions in historical performances. The chapter considers changes in the assessment of such listening in recent years and contemplates causes for these shifts.

Musical training, for the amount of time and the diligence it takes, has often been metaphorized as a long and arduous journey, with Johann Joseph Fux’s 1725 instructional book for piano players, Gradus ad Parnassum, being a case in point. For young US American pianists at the turn of the century, the idea of instrumental training as a gradual progress toward a goal blended in with the actual experience of crossing the ocean to study with European teachers. The Vienna-based pianist Theodor Leschetizky (1830–1915) counted among the most popular teachers for American students. While no musical expedition, whether figurative or real, comes without obstacles, Leschetizky introduced a particular barrier for those interested in making a career in music. He employed assistant teachers that prepared students before they were allowed to proceed and work with him directly. This strategy turned out to be rather rewarding financially, and it also catered to fundamental concepts about artistic achievement and transatlantic relations held by the classical music scene. In this article, I will address the special appeal that Leschetizky’s gatekeeping regimen had for pianists from the United States. I will describe organizational, financial, and aesthetic implications as well as the consequences that accepting or refusing this system had for American students. In doing this, I will draw on unpublished documents from the archive of the New York Leschetizky Association and on reports from Leschetizky students and assistants.

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Nach annähernd neunzig Film-Minuten, in denen bis auf wenige Augenblicke nur Männer gezeigt worden sind, tritt in Stanley Kubricks Kriegsfilm PATHS OF GLORY (USA 1957) auf der improvisierten Bühne einer Taverne eine junge deutsche Kriegsgefangene auf, die ein einfaches Volkslied singt. 1 In die Melodie ihres Liedes vom »Treuen Husar«, das auch in der englischen Originalfassung nicht synchronisiert wird, fallen die umsitzenden französischen Soldaten nach und nach ein. Diese Szene, die für die Handlung von seltsam uneigentlicher Bedeutung ist -die Anordnung des von außen zusehenden Colonel Dax, seinen Männern noch ein paar Minuten des Zuhörens zu gewähren, unterstreicht ihren Status als Beifügung -, eröffnet eine neue Perspektive auf den Horror der zurückliegenden Ereignisse. Kubrick selbst urteilte im Nachhinein, er habe mitteilen wollen, dass »life is not so completely downbeat as it often seems to be. Even though the people that we love disappoint us, this does not mean that they are completely malicious [...]« (Varela 2005, 312). Wie komplex diese Szene in der Taverne ist, wie nachdrücklich ihr Status als »most controversial scene of the film« (Bier 1994, 96) hervorgehoben werden muss, die sich jeder »snapper analysis« (Varela 2005, 312) entzieht, zeigt sich nicht zuletzt an der Vielzahl ihrer Auslegungen. So hat man vorgetragen, dass die Soldaten hier an ihre eigenen Frauen denken und wahre Feindschaft nicht zwischen Deutschen und Franzosen, sondern 1