THE SOUND OF COBWEBS

A movie in current distribution throughout the US is "Wordplay," which is a documentary profile of several people who are competing in the national crossword-puzzle championship. It should come as no surprise that one of the quick-witted contestants is a professional musician; not a classical musician, but someone who makes a living as an accompanist for singers trying-out for Broadway musicals.

Not only did the movie remind me of how poor my puzzle-solving skills are, but it also showed what a real musician is. The man, Jon Delfin, is more than someone who can merely play the piano competently; he has an encyclopedic knowledge of songs as well. Singers announce what song they will sing and then specify what key they prefer. A similar scene is also depicted in the superb 1990 movie "Postcards From the Edge" where Shirley MacLaine (portraying Debby Reynolds) tells the pianist that she will sing Stephen Sondheim's "I'm Still Here" (not the simplest of songs) in D-flat (not the easiest of keys).

In "Wordplay," Jon Delfin recalls an audition in which he realized that the song's harmony could be improved, so he began changing it while playing. The singer was able to follow the new harmony and at the end of the song, she turned away from the judges and told Delfin, "That was beautiful."

Because I'm more interested in music than I am in puzzles, that was the movie's high point for me. In an age in which much of new music is created by dragging recorded loops into a window, this fellow can create music spontaneously.

I also reflected on the fact that improvisation has become a lost art in classical music. Classical music today is limited to the artist attempting to duplicate a performance of a sacred relic by a (necessarily) dead composer. The ideal is to play a piece by J. S. Bach exactly as Bach himself would've played it -- which also explains the current fad for period instruments. It's analogous to a Catholic priest reenacting the transubstantiation of The Last Supper. If a modern performer had the temerity to begin improvising on Bach's music during a concert, he'd (assuming that anyone in the audience could discern the difference) be met with howls of derision and perhaps a lawsuit.

But it ain't always been that way. Back when great music was really happening, improvisation was common and even preferred. Beethoven had a reputation as the greatest of improvisers and for much of his performing career, his recitals were mostly extemporaneous. The same was true of Mozart and Liszt, but all that has ended. The only classical concerts I've attended in which improvised music was featured have been organ recitals. Indeed, most classical votaries I know judge a performance solely on how closely it matches the familiar version on an old LP they own. Any variance is deemed spurious, and the epithet "authentic" is the highest praise that a classical performance can earn.