Hans Gál at 95

In an age when music has become increasingly mechanistic and more concerned with sound than content; when the language of music has become a veritable tower of Babel addressing itself to minorities of minorities; when dense ingenuity, often accompanied by pages of notes explaining what it is doing, is hardly even penetrable by the eye let alone the ear, and memorability is often more minimal than the minimalists, Hans Gál is bound to be a lone voice. He is, after all, 95 years old and learnt his craft from distinguished masters of the 19th century, imbibing the classical tradition in a world which could still lay some claim to civilization: that is before the First World War set in train increasingly rapid developments in technology and a steady decline in standards. If the artist's task is to reflect the world around him, then he has done this admirably. If he aims to expose society's weaknesses, it would seem that the forces of evil are winning. If he aims to console and heal—creating images of reconciliation in a barren world, as Tippett so tellingly puts it—then Hans Gál has certainly played his part in this reconciliation and it is our loss that his music is so little known in this country. Surprising, too, for he has been with us for nearly 45 years, composing, conducting, teaching, lecturing, and playing, but having no gimmicks to offer, no ad-man to promote him; and thus, being an essentially private man, never seeking to impose himself—‘the most unpushy composer I have ever met’ as one German radio producer puts it—comparatively few have had a chance to discover his worth.