Word Crimes

This is the fourth blog post in a projected series reviewing The Legacy of Elise Hall: Contemporary Perspectives on Gender and the Saxophone, edited by Kurt Bertels and Adrianne Honnold, published by Leuven University Press, 2024.

This post focuses on the third chapter, or the first of two chapters in Part II labelled Critical Organology & Social Identity. This chapter, Exhuming Elise: Rehabilitating Reputations is by Adrianne Honnold.

Several resources were consulted, directly and indirectly, for this review:

William H. Street’s 1983 Doctoral Dissertation, Elise Boyer Hall, America’s First Female Concert Saxophonist: Her Life as a Performing Artist, Pioneer of Concert Repertory for Saxophone and Patroness of the Arts.

Debussy’s Rapsodie pour orchestre et saxophone Revisited by James R. Noyes, published in The Musical Quarterly, Volume 90, Issue 3-4, Fall-Winter 2007.

Jean-Marie Londeix Master of the Modern Saxophone by James C. Umble, published by Roncorp, Incorporated, 2000.

A Saxophone for a Lady, BIS-CD-1020, a 1998 recording by Claude and Odile Delangle featuring the music of Elise Hall, with notes by Marie-Laure Ragot.

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Elise Hall and her contributions—underrated? Has she been judged too harshly? This chapter is focused on the language other scholars have used to tell her story. It asks: Has Elise Hall been given the credit she deserves? Have the words selected to describe her and her music had a negative effect?

From the Abstract:

“In the past, scholars have compiled the biographical details of Elise Hall’s life but she has not been investigated as a figure whose narrative has been distorted by the constraints rendered by embedded societal power structures. It has not been explicitly demonstrated (italics mine) how language commonly used to discuss Hall has contributed to biases based on gender, ability, and social status and has led to negative value judgments against her and the music she commissioned.” (page 81)

Paul Cohen is cited for drawing attention to Hall’s amateur status in an interview. Some of Debussy’s careless remarks get an airing via Léon Vallas. Otherwise, the author does not satisfactorily address the problem she points out. Honnold fails to provide language examples that “explicitly demonstrate” demeaning attitudes toward Hall. Nor does she show how the existing scholarship has sullied the reputation of the music Hall commissioned.

Perhaps this is because most other scholars tend to describe Hall mildly, attending to the subtleties and nuance required for the most objective appraisal possible. Some of the bolder descriptors like, “eccentric” tend to come from direct sources. These were people who knew and interacted with Elise Hall, and their interpretations must be taken into consideration. Describing her as eccentric may not be fair or accurate, but the scholar is required to quote precisely and draw their conclusions based on these first-hand statements.

Honnold goes on to note that Elise Hall:

“…has been described as an amateur, and the music she commissioned assessed as uncomplicated, light, and lacking in virtuosity. Yet these evaluations and even the language used to characterize them are based on beliefs deeply rooted in the patriarchal traditions of classical music, beliefs that emerged in the early seventeenth century to mark gender difference and reflect the formation of social constructions of gender of the time.” (page 82)

To sum up, Honnold suggests that:

“Hall endured discrimination due to aspects of her identity, and the majority of the gender codes implicit in the histories written about her have gone unmediated.” (page 82)

This has led to a situation where:

“Saxophonists who are familiar with her work seem content to echo the narratives that she was not an accomplished player and the music she played was too simple.” (page 83)

On The Official Record

One saxophonist who does not fit this description is Jean-Marie Londeix. There are essays on three Elise Hall commissions in his biography, Jean-Marie Londeix Master of the Modern Saxophone. His views on the Caplet Légende are completely at odds with Honnold’s conclusions and demonstrate a lifelong curiosity and commitment to this music. (All quotes taken from pages 199 – 201 of his biography.)

Londeix begins:

“Beginning in the early 1960s, and continuing over the course of many years, I sought to find a longtime missing work for saxophone called Légende by André Caplet.”

Londeix eventually found the manuscript at the Bibliothèque Nationale included in the composer’s music for harp.

“I was elated to have finally found this important work of high quality.” (italics mine)

Londeix continues:

“I have performed it often, in both the orchestral and chamber versions. Although they differ in character, both versions are enchantingly beautiful.” (italics mine)

The Légende, “…is considered to be a masterpiece of the saxophone repertoire, a chamber or orchestral work of the highest quality, capable of appealing to musicians with the most demanding of musical tastes. (italics mine) André Caplet’s use of original tone colors and instrumental combinations is evident in this piece, as is his unique lyricism. The writing is harmonically refined, as in the great French tradition of Fauré and Debussy. The instruments are skillfully chosen, and are used colorfully and intelligently; in a word, Ravelienne. The sensitive melody, often modestly voluptuous, is astonishingly “saxophonistic”.

Praise indeed, coming from the greatest classical saxophonist living today.

Londeix directly addresses the simplicity factor. He adroitly quashes the notion that this piece is easy to play. He explains:

“The virtuosity here (italics mine) is one of embouchure control and musical expression, as there are no technically difficult passages. However, it is not an easy piece to perform. It is indeed difficult to give the saxophone a tone color that is simultaneously solemn and clear. It is also challenging to express an artistically refined and yet spontaneous sense of fervor that is free of mannerisms, and to achieve a natural-sounding yet reserved vibrato. This vibrato style parallels that which the composer preferred to hear on other instruments. The saxophone should discreetly emerge through the musical texture, yet without drawing too much attention to itself. Additionally, in both the piano and orchestral versions, it is extremely challenging for the performer to control intonation. Such challenges require very sensitive embouchure control on the part of any performer.”

It is clear that Londeix does not think this piece is in any way simple. He also understands the demands this music makes on the performer, offering a more fulsome definition of virtuosity. In the essay, Elise Hall is named as the commissioner of the Légende. Her two performances of the piece in Boston and in Paris are noted. Neither she, nor the piece, are treated disrespectfully or carelessly. Indeed, Londeix’s admiration for the Légende gushes forth as he describes, in his words, this, “masterpiece of the saxophone repertoire”.

Claude Delangle must also share Londeix’s admiration for this piece. He recorded it, along with the Debussy Rapsodie, the d’Indy Choral varié and the Schmitt Légende on the compact disc titled A Saxophone for a Lady.

In the liner notes provided by Marie-Laure Ragot, Elise Hall is described as, “…a remarkable person in every respect.” In the Caplet Légende, “…the saxophone soars above an accompaniment on the piano in triplets and one finds all the richness and poetry of the woodwind instrument.” (italics mine)

The notes for Vincent d’Indy’s Choral varié are worth quoting in full:

“The Choral varié (Op. 55) by the master of the Schola Cantorum might be expected to be rather austere music. But, quite on the contrary, from the piano introduction which is based on a simple motif of four notes, Vincent d’Indy managed to create an atmosphere rich in melancholy. During the course of the work, which is really a passacaglia, the composer combines compositional mastery with a lyricism that one rarely encounters elsewhere in his work. (italics mine)

He thus not only develops a remarkable counterpoint, subtly utilizing augmentations and variations, but also deploys a rich harmony, in an accompaniment with brilliant, crystalline arpeggios and quasi impressionist accents. This produces a succession of solemn moments of vertical writing and others, more supple, in which the dialogue between saxophone and piano blossoms with great fluidity. In this sonata version for a work originally composed for saxophone and orchestra, d’Indy established a true complementarity (sic) between the instruments. In fact the piano part is also highly developed, indeed more audacious than that of the saxophone which is of restrained virtuosity. (italics mine) Nevertheless, by means of his superb melodic lines, d’Indy lets the saxophone show all the warmth of its sonorities. This piece, so refined in character, must certainly have captivated Elisa (sic) Hall who included it in many of her concerts.” (italics mine)

This is reverent and respectful commentary.

According to Honnold, “anecdotal evidence” taken from a Sax on the Web forum indicate that Hall, “…is often viewed with a combination of muted admiration and complacency”. (page 83) I think this is a fair characterization of the discussion. There is some inaccurate information shared on the forum. Some of it is corrected by an informed defender. References to Hall are sparse and not particularly central to the discussion.

This is not surprising for an anonymous conversation on the Internet, where people who post have little or no accountability for the information they provide. It’s just a casual conversation without much scholastic context.

This contrasts sharply with the effusive praise provided by both Londeix and Delangle. As performers of Hall’s music, they have informed viewpoints. They celebrate and acknowledge Hall’s artistic achievements through standardized publishing formats where their professional status and credibility is on the line. They have willingly aligned themselves with this music.

When it’s official and when it counts, the music Elise Hall commissioned is given its due.

The Five Social Identities

Honnold pitches the idea that, “…Hall has not been investigated as a figure whose reputation is colored by the constraints rendered by social identity and hierarchical structures.” (page 83) She specifies five “social identities” that have led to Hall being undervalued: She was a saxophonist, a woman, an American, a wealthy person and someone with a hearing disability.

Was Elise Hall a woman of many constraints? She was ultra-rich. Honnold notes that, “…we might consider her a “one-percenter,” a person who possesses more wealth than ninety-nine percent of society.” (page 87) Certainly, her life was coloured by hierarchical structures—she was at the top of the hierarchy! Extraordinarily rich people seem to do extraordinary things. Money has a way of sweeping aside the impediments. The advantages Hall enjoyed far outnumber any constraints or limits she may have encountered due to being an American female saxophonist with a mild hearing disability. It’s impossible to imagine how she would have achieved what she did without her vast wealth; wealth that allowed for her education, her tastes and prominent social position. A wealthy life from cradle to grave underscored every decision she was able to make.

Honnold concedes that, “Although she does not represent all of the identity markers that have historically converged to marginalize or oppress individuals, Hall was nevertheless subjected to criticism that affected her life and legacy.” (page 85)

Elise Hall was a privileged person who had almost none of the “identity markers” that have confined or suppressed the ambitions of most people in the United States. She had, in today’s language, an abundance of agency. And she used it.

Was Hall, “subjected to criticism”? Newspapers and journals reviewed her performances. There is recognition, in print, of her financial support. Critical appraisals of her skills are often muted, featuring language laced with flattery and gratitude. Other than the initial reluctance of Debussy, there is no evidence that people in her own time were disparaging of her efforts. No one stopped her from pursuing her interests until later in life when her family interceded to regulate her financial situation. Based on what we know, Elise Hall simply went about her business.

Unwisely, Honnold introduces the concept of intersectionality to the discussion. Later, she backtracks, stating that, “Hall’s identity as a wealthy person from a family of colonizers strictly contrasts with the original intentions of intersectionality that helped people understand how class and race often combine to marginalize an individual.” (page 88) This is one example of several where Honnold contradicts herself in the text.

The suggestion that Hall’s five social identities (saxophonist, woman, American, wealthy, disabled) contributed negatively to how her legacy has developed seems vague, inconclusive and most importantly, unsubstantiated. Where is the proof? So many of these suggestions are based on suppositions.

Her identity as a saxophonist may have been seen as inappropriate and unusual, but also new and novel. Seeing a woman perform on this instrument might have been baffling but also pleasantly surprising. Her American-style ambition might have been come across as too aggressive or refreshingly optimistic and enthusiastic. Liabilities can become strengths. Strengths can become liabilities. When we consider the evidence, reviewing what we actually know about Elise Hall, it’s clear that she was a smashing success!

Meritocracy Matters

Was Elise Hall an amateur? A professional? A virtuoso? I make my case in the second blog post. I believe she was a professional in spirit, if not by formal title.

Honnold argues that, “The salient point is that the way that “professional” and “amateur” are presented as black-and-white binaries, lacking nuance or any gray area, have served as inadequate umbrella terms that leave women out and devalue their creative contributions.” (page 93) This was certainly true in her time.

The author reminds us that, “…a revered characteristic in classical music is virtuosity or technical facility.” (page 95) She suggests, “…male-defined performance practices…” that “…prize virtuosity and technicality…” (page 85) above other skills are, in part, to blame for the persistent idea that Hall wasn’t a very good player. And that, “…music that lacked complication and did not require the prescribed level of virtuosity was historically deemed feminine and of lesser value.” (page 95) Some of the music in the Elise Hall collection would fit this description.

And yet, doesn’t all great music—in any style—embody both elements of the masculine and the feminine? Don’t all great artists understand the balance between technical and lyrical passages that influence and exaggerate the other’s characteristics? Can it really be said that women are less technical than men? Traditional work often completed by women: baking, sewing and embroidery, to name but a few, all require technical precision. Think of the extremely vigorous physical training required to become a ballerina. A lot of technique is required to portray ethereal lightness and grace. Are national anthems feminine and mediocre because they feature very simple melody lines? What about the Song of the Volga Boatmen? It’s has a very basic melody line; is it also feminine?

I’m not aware of any scholars (excepting the discredited comments made by Vallas and Debussy) who chose to discuss Hall’s work using the terms masculine and feminine. Technical skills are neither masculine or feminine. They are simply skills. Equating technically easy pieces with the feminine is unhelpful and untrue. As Londeix noted in his essay on the Caplet Légende, different pieces require different types of technique. But developing all technique requires practise and effort.

Whatever title we assign to Elise Hall, judging her ability on the saxophone is fair game. If we want to look at her in the fullest sense, we have to acknowledge how well or how poorly she played the instrument. It’s inescapable and intellectually weak to avoid dealing with this aspect.

Playing the saxophone is about playing the saxophone. We should be judged by the amount of technique we have acquired. THANK GOODNESS this precedent exits. Music as a meritocracy is a concept we can all support. It allows people who may face discrimination of any kind to throw their hat in the ring. Your value as a saxophonist rests on how well you play the saxophone; nothing else.

Technical skill or virtuosity also rests on a spectrum. Whatever level of skill you do acquire will—undoubtedly—help you present your best possible performance. Everyone in the profession comes to understand that success is mercurial. All skills are welcome and important. But how well you play is the essence of the exercise and it matters.

Elise Hall, Warts And All

I have given a lot of thought to this well-written chapter. While the writing is strong, generalizations abound and few conclusive examples are provided. Some of the existing scholarship on Hall is dismissive and decidedly subjective. But most musicians and scholars who study and perform the music of Elise Hall hold her and her music in high regard. This is reflected by the language choices they make in official text documents like books, articles and liner notes. Casual tittle-tattle is what it is. If players choose to dismiss or downplay Elise Hall and her music in their private or semi-private conversations, so be it. It reflects more on them than on Hall.

It cannot be overstated that very little evidence exists. Without more correspondence between Hall and all the pertinent people involved, we simply don’t know how she felt or experienced her role. What evidence we do have suggests that she was extremely successful in realizing her goals. The idea, which is repeated over and over in this chapter, that she faced multiple constraints and constant discrimination doesn’t align with the facts.

Being honest about the reality that Elise Hall had limited playing skills does not diminish her legacy. It helps paint a clearer picture of why the music she commissioned is the way it is. It provides context. If Hall is to be included in the pantheon of great saxophonists, her record should be scrutinized. I think Jean-Marie Londeix would agree.

In the March/April 2002 NASA (North American Saxophone Alliance) update, four saxophonists shared their memories of Marcel Mule (1901 – 2001) who had recently passed away. There are warm tributes from Eugene Rousseau, Claude Delangle and Frederick Hemke. The most interesting submission is from Jean-Marie Londeix. Acknowledging his close ties with Mule, Londeix summarizes his career with breathtaking honesty. Mule emerges as brilliant but also narrow-minded and closed off from the possibilities of new music. Even now it is a bracing and unflinching review of one artistic life.

Elise Hall deserves no less.