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itunes finds a fake
So a man puts a classical piano CD into his computer, and the online itunes database registers it as being by a different pianist. Puzzled, he checks it out and it is.
And a teapost-tempest has ensued, for further investigation has suggested that most of the recorded legacy of Joyce Hatto, the pianist whose name was on the label, is similarly pirated. Some had apparently found it odd that a talented but not world-shaking pianist who'd retired from concertizing 35 years ago should suddenly, in her ill old age just before she died last year, become a master of an astonishing range of repertoire; but others had acclaimed her as a remarkable little-known find.
Hatto's husband, the producer who'd issued the recordings on his own label, at first stoutly maintained their authenticity without attempting to explain how other pianists' names got encoded in the tracks, but now he confesses a sad story of fakery that started small and just got out of hand.
And there's been lots of commentary on this, some less blithery than others.
I am not such a connoisseur of individual performers that I'd ever heard of Hatto before the scandal broke, so I'm in no position to say whether her astonishing apparent range of repertoire and style should have raised suspicions. But I can say that, in the absence of any reason to suspect fakery, it's not surprising or damning for critics not to be able to identify a specific performer in a recording they hadn't heard before. It's a little bit like reading an unsigned new story: there may be traits that can lead you to say "this is definitely in so-and-so's style," but whether it is that person or just someone similar or a good pastiche can't be established definitely without external knowledge.
While the scale of the Hatto case might be unparalleled, deliberately misattributed recordings in classical music are nothing new. Warning signs of this kind are all over most of the historical discographies of 1930s-1950s performers that I've seen. Identifying such mislabeled historical recordings may start by listening to them and saying, "That doesn't sound like Toscanini to me," but it continues with research in archives.
More transparently, there was once a whole label devoted to issuing pirated LPs in the US taken from shortwave radio tapes of BBC broadcasts of obscure modern music. They were issued as by imaginary performers with extremely bland names, but I doubt that anyone knowledgeable enough to want the music was fooled, as most of the works had only ever been performed once, on those BBC broadcasts. The only people who seem to know or care much about this business are discographers of some of the more frequently-heard composers.
And a teapost-tempest has ensued, for further investigation has suggested that most of the recorded legacy of Joyce Hatto, the pianist whose name was on the label, is similarly pirated. Some had apparently found it odd that a talented but not world-shaking pianist who'd retired from concertizing 35 years ago should suddenly, in her ill old age just before she died last year, become a master of an astonishing range of repertoire; but others had acclaimed her as a remarkable little-known find.
Hatto's husband, the producer who'd issued the recordings on his own label, at first stoutly maintained their authenticity without attempting to explain how other pianists' names got encoded in the tracks, but now he confesses a sad story of fakery that started small and just got out of hand.
And there's been lots of commentary on this, some less blithery than others.
I am not such a connoisseur of individual performers that I'd ever heard of Hatto before the scandal broke, so I'm in no position to say whether her astonishing apparent range of repertoire and style should have raised suspicions. But I can say that, in the absence of any reason to suspect fakery, it's not surprising or damning for critics not to be able to identify a specific performer in a recording they hadn't heard before. It's a little bit like reading an unsigned new story: there may be traits that can lead you to say "this is definitely in so-and-so's style," but whether it is that person or just someone similar or a good pastiche can't be established definitely without external knowledge.
While the scale of the Hatto case might be unparalleled, deliberately misattributed recordings in classical music are nothing new. Warning signs of this kind are all over most of the historical discographies of 1930s-1950s performers that I've seen. Identifying such mislabeled historical recordings may start by listening to them and saying, "That doesn't sound like Toscanini to me," but it continues with research in archives.
More transparently, there was once a whole label devoted to issuing pirated LPs in the US taken from shortwave radio tapes of BBC broadcasts of obscure modern music. They were issued as by imaginary performers with extremely bland names, but I doubt that anyone knowledgeable enough to want the music was fooled, as most of the works had only ever been performed once, on those BBC broadcasts. The only people who seem to know or care much about this business are discographers of some of the more frequently-heard composers.
no subject
Well, you probably see this coming. I mentioned the recording, with some pride and affection, on rec.music.classical, and was disabused of the notion that it was Prokofiev conducting. Naturally, I've forgotten who they said it really was. I'm still thinking it was Oistrakh on the violin, but won't swear to it.
I'm a bit bugged by some of these cheap CDs with non-existent performers. Either they're not given credit (who -doesn't- care who's playing?) or credit is given to something like "The Northstar Chamber Orchestra" (Northstar being the recording label). No doubt these are Eastern European groups, purchased at fire-sale prices, but unless anonymity was a condition of sale, I don't see why they shouldn't give credit.
non-existing performers
Slightly differently: There's also a long history of ensembles under exclusive recording contracts making other records on the side under other names. The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra is particularly noted for this.
It's not quite the same thing as Hatto, being more like the use of a pseudonym on the side than plagiarism (John Varley writing as Herb Boehm, that sort of thing), but worth mentioning all the same.
Hatto Trick
I'm a longtime contributor to rec.music.classical.recordings, which newsgroup also contains a pianophile named Tom Deacon. Deacon was, from 1989-92, vice president in charge of programming at KUSC, and was executive producer for the Great Pianists of the 20th Century set for Philips.
These may at first seem to be admirable credits, but it was Deacon who brought Bonnie Grice to KUSC, commencing what I refer to as "the bad years" of the station; and the Great Pianists series has, to steal a P.D.Q. Bach line, "more errors than an early Mets game." (For one thing, it left out such nobodies as Egon Petri and Mieczyslaw Horszowski, and included stars such as Lyubov Bruk and Mark Taimanov.)
In r.m.c.r., Deacon appointed himself chief promoter of the "Hatto" CDs, excoriating anybody who disagreed with him or even raised doubts about their provenance. I find Deacon to be personally detestable for many reasons, and regard his opinions as without value. For this reason, I wasn't taken in -- although I admit that I bought the two Brahms Piano Concerti, just out of curiosity back in 2005, and listened to them once, over headphones, while typing. (I haven't "officially" listened to a CD in my collection until I've done so via loudspeakers, in my living room.) I believe I called them "pretty darn good," but I heard no evidence of the claimed miraculousness and never felt moved to investigate any further, probably out of fatigue.
There is plenty about "Hattogate" on the Web now, but for detailed breaking reports I refer you to Jessica Duchen's Classical Music Blog, particularly this entry, for an interesting reference closely related to the above.
no subject
The lifted BBC performances included a number of symphonies by Havergal Brian, disguised with pseudonyms, including the premiere of the 28th symphony as conducted by Leopold Stokowski (a 90 year old conductor premiering a symphony by a 90 year old composer, or nearly, as I recall). John Canarina wrote an angry article for High Fidelity about how his performance of Symphony #25 had been filched by the label.