The pianoforte as we know it today is an early nineteenth-century phenomenon. Most people are familiar with the traditional performance culture in terms of canonical composers and a virtuoso cult that is in many respects still the same as it was in the days of Franz Liszt. For most people brands like Steinway, Pleyel, Erard and Broadwood are strongly associated with quality, skills and sophistication. These names conjure up images of famous pianists that treat their instruments in a highly artistic manner. To advertise these pianos, the name itself is enough; it is as if the absence of testimonials, praise or illustrations adds to the exclusive character of the product.
But how many have heard about a Simplex, a Humanola or a Cecilian? And how many have seen the advertisements loaded with engineering facts, overdressed young ladies and praise by famous virtuosi? The three names are examples of the player piano, a revolutionary invention that helped the performer make music by having the score punched into rolls. In fact, very few people know that this machine/instrument almost ousted the pianoforte around the turn of the century 1900. Today the player piano brands are more interesting for cultural historians than for musicians. Studying the marketing of this product, and the brand names in particular, is a means of understanding the mechanism behind the mechanism. Deeply rooted in an engineering tradition of levers, rods and thermodynamics, the player piano was launched as the perfect machine for the busy person who was easily fatigued. These names tell us a great deal about the clash between an exclusive world of art and a democratic society in which everyone had a right to Beethoven and Chopin.
Svensk titel: Steinway eller Simplex? Hur simpel får Beethoven bli?