Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 2, No. 11 (1928-08)

422 The Phonograph Monthly Review August, 1928 the radio. Not once in a thousand times is a composition player or sung—and what is perhaps equally important—accompanied, with anything approaching the care and perfection of detail which is devoted to the production of the finest records. It is often urged that the radio is in its youth. Granted! Also, let it be understood that any art of such obvious immaturity demands or deserves no very serious consideration from an aesthetic standpoint. It is possible—at certain hours and at unfortunately brief periods—to hear radio broadcastings that most closely merit critical notice and enjoyment. But it is seldom that they “make the grade.” Oftener we are offended, even in these special “hours,” by garbled and unskilled “cuts” in the compositions—excisions made with- out rhyme and reason. Symphonies, tone-poems, and the lighter classics are almost invariably broadcasted by pitifully small orchestras in which the piano appears to be the most important instru- ment. Not long ago I sat at dinner in the house of a friend and listened to a radio performance of the “Malaguena”—a ballet-air from Moszkow- ski’s opera “Boabdil.” The number is not of ex- cessive length, but, without rhyme or reason, twenty measures were cut from the finale, abso- lutely ruining the effect of the piece. The “Scheherazade” Suite of Rimsky-Korsakoff ap- pears to be a favorite number on the radio. Has anyone ever heard an even ordinarily passable performance of this suite on the radio? It is usually shortened beyond recognition. I have never heard the third movement, the “Young Prince and the Young Princess,” given without cutting the beautiful middle section out bodily. Beter far never to attempt it at all. Let the radio stick to jazz and noise—in these lines it is supreme. Some of the Strauss waltzes fare better, though many times the piano part suggests nothing so much as the “music” in a cheap movie-house. It is almost invariably played too loud, and is dis- figured by original and would-be decorative arabesques by the pianist, to fill in any possible pauses in the melody. I listened to such a per- version of the beautiful “Sounds from the Vienna Woods” (from one of the best orchestras that play for the radio) and it was sad beyond de- scription. When I reached home I restored my equanmmity and my faith in humanity by opening my “Sonora” and playing the very sympathetic interpretation of the Johann Strauss masterpiece recorded under the direction of Erich Kleiber and a symphony orchestra. The waltz is a long one, and is given complete on two 12-inch records. The introduction is a perfect gem, amounting practically to a miniature overture in itself, and contains the famous zither solo which Johann Strauss insisted upon. If we wish to become acquainted with the best music, whether symphony, tone-poem, opera, operetta or dance, let us hear it done in the best way. As regards the matter of opera-arias and the higher forms of the ballad, and the so-called “art- song,” how often is it possible to hear over the radio voices of the first—or even the second— rank? I did not think that the world contained so many nasal tenors, or shrieking sopranos nearly all of which seem to be afflicted with an incurable vibrato. The owner of carefully selected records need never face this very grave problem . . . the world’s greatest singers are there to pour out the treasures of their art wherever he so wishes it. Even in “the choice of masterpieces” the record- lover holds the winning hand. Not long ago I was at the monthly meeting of a musical organi- zation—a club which included a number of vocal instructors. The guests had been previously re- quested to bring with them favorite records illus- trating French music, which was the topic of of discussion for this particular evening. One member had brought the waltz from Gounod’s “Romeo and Juliette,” sung by Mme. Tetrazzini . . . another, the same waltz by Mme. Galli-Curci. Opinions varied as to their merit. On my slip of paper I voted:—“I do not care for either of these interpretations . . . neither is sung cor- rectly.” Tetrazzini introduces some gratuitous and wholly uncalled-for vocal ornaments, and Galli-Curci hurries the opening descending chro- matic scale out of all recognition, doubtless to dis- guise her faulty intonation. Fortunately I had brought the very beautiful record of the “Romeo et Juliette” waltz sung by Madame Emma Eames (Victor record 88011). Mme. Eames was the ideal Juliette, and has never been even distantly approached as the lovely daughter of the Capu- lets. Gounod himself, said that she absolutely realized his dream, and he himself coached her in the rale. It needs hardly to be said that Madame Eames’ interpretation was authentic: that it was, as well, musically perfect and flaw- less was proved when our hostess brought out the score of the opera, and followed the air note by note on the printed page. “It’s wonderful,” she exclaimed, as the final lovely note died away into silence. “Eames is an enchantress—, I must certainly order some of these records for use in my teaching. It will be invaluable!” Could anything of this sort be possible on the radio? As for dance numbers—in point of general vulgarity, savage noise and genuine musical ir- reverence, the radio is, as I said before, supreme. Every music-lover must protest against the use —or nuisance—of the classics as material for the fox-trot and Charleston. One of the younger jazz-band leaders explained his attitude as fol- lows :— “Why, we are keeping the old stuff alive . . . they ought to thank us!” The truth of the matter is that they have no musical ideas of their own ... a most humili- ating state of things, is it not to be wondered at