“He began with two lovely impressionistic things by Vannin (Sanborn says that this is ‘programme for Ornstein’), _The Waltzers_ and _Night_. A long sonata by Cyril Scott (almost entirely in the whole-tone scale, sounding consequently like Debussy out of Bach, for there was a fugue and a smell of the academy) followed. Ravel’s _Oiseaux Tristes_ twittered their sorrows prettily in the treble, and a sonatina by the same composer seemed negligible. Albeniz’s _Almeria_, a section of the twelve-parted _Iberia_, was a Spanish picture of worth. Ornstein followed with his own pieces, _Improvisata_, a vivid bit of colour and rhythm, and _Impressions of the Thames_, in which an attempt was made to picture the heavy smoking barges, the labours on the river, the shrill sirens of the tugs. The limited (is it, I wonder?) medium of the piano made all this sound rather Chinese. But some got the picture. A few laughed. _The Wild Men’s Dance_ convulsed certain parts of the audience. It always does (but this may well be hysteria); others were struck with wonder by its thrill. Certainly a powerful massing of notes, creating wild effects in tone, and a compelling rhythm. In the _Fairy Pictures_ of Korngold, which closed the programme, Ornstein was not at his best; nor, for that matter, was Korngold. They were written when the composer was a very young boy and they are not particularly original, spontaneous, or beautiful. The difficulties exist for the player rather than for the hearer.... Ornstein did not bring out their humour. Humour, as yet, is not an attribute of his playing. He has always imparted to the piano a beautiful tone; his touch is almost as fine as Pachmann’s. But his powers are ripening in every direction. Formerly he dwelt too long on nuances, fussed too much with details. His style is becoming broader. His technique has always been ample. There is no doubt but that he will become a power in the music world.” Some time later I met Leo Ornstein and we talked over a table. He is fluid in conversation and while he talks he clasps and unclasps his hands.... He referred to his début at the New Amsterdam. “My ambition then was to play the concertos of Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky ... and I satisfied it. Soon after that concert I went abroad.... Suddenly the new thing came to me, and I began to write and play in the style which has since become identified with my name. It was music that I felt and I realized that I had become myself at last, although at first, to be frank, it horrified me as much as it has since horrified others. Mind you, when I took the leap I had never seen any music by Schoenberg or Strawinsky. I was unaware that there was such a generality as ‘futurism.’