Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 5, No. 7 (1931-04)

April, 1931, VoL V* No* 7 203 “Who is it?” the soprano demanded, “I know every note of that aria, and she gives me a thrill for every one she sings.” “Oh, I'll show you something as good or bet- ter,” the writer evaded. He played a later re- cording, by a celebrated coloratura of a later gen- eration than Melba. “This is lovely—but not to be compared with the first,” the young soprano commented. “This one makes me think 'what a beautiful voice/ But I don’t have to think about the first one. That woman has something that electrifies me in spite of the limitations of the record. Put the first one on again.” Now, here was the voice of Melba, even under a handicap, compelling tribute from a young so- prano of the present generation,—a race of sing- ers supposedly superficial in its vocal standards, and disdainful of the old criteria of sheer bril- liance of performance, as against the modern stress on interpretation, dramatization, and such. This girl was responding to the voice of Melba as did the critics when she sang at the Boston Opera House in “Faust” and “La Boheme” thir- teen years ago this last month, during a visit of the Chicago Opera Company. And Melba was then fifty-seven years old. She was received with critical acclaim although she had been singing for twenty-four years since she was first heard in Boston. Yet, despite such chronicles, despite the favor- able reaction of such temperaments as the young soprano who listened to the recording, the mod- ern generation is inclined to be sceptical, to make the accusation that the recent praising of Melba was due to her belonging to “Old Times.” To the Massachusetts Institute of Technology the Melba record was taken. Dr. W. R. Barss, professor of acoustics, was asked whether it were possible to make a scientific proof that critical opinion was right in declaring Melba’s voice in certain respects unique. “I’ll make some ocillograms of the record,” Dr. Barss said. Down to his basement acoustics laboratory, bristling with apparatus, we went. After ad- justing a number of electrical connections among batteries and instruments on two tables, the pro- fessor started the record on a phonograph with electrical tone control, put out the laboratory light, threw a switch on a mechanism, and stood peering down into it. This was an ocillograph— the Westinghouse make, called an “Osiso.” He was watching a four-sided mirror which, spun around rapidly by a motor, was visible from a light beneath. A trill came from the Melba rec- ord. THE HOUND & HORN akhouhces The Spring, 1931 Issue RAINER MARIA RILKE, an essay with trans' lations by Hester Pic\man THE WINTER PALACE, a poem by Eric Schroeder INNOVATIONS IN THE “WIDE FILM” by Serge Eisenstein FOUR PRELUDES by Conrad Aiken THE ROUNDHOUSE, a story by John Kemmerer NIGHT PIECE, a poem by Richard Blac\mur GEORGE KELLY AND DRAMATIC DEVICE, an essay by Kenneth White CHRONICLES ON ARCHITECTURE AND PAINTING CORRESPONDENCE and BOOK REVIEWS “The best magazine from the literary and philosophicditerary point of view of any in America .” —The Criterion Obtainable at The Hound &? Horn Inc. Or Your 10 East 43 Street Bookseller New York, N. Y. Fifty Cents a Copy “There’s a beautiful tone,” Dr. Barss comment- ed as he stared at the glass—“very beautiful.” It was emotional admiration rather than plain scientific statement. Yet he appeared not to be listening to the voice of Melba at all. He was look- ing. His guest looked at the same place. For every change of tone, and every variation of loudness and softness in the music, there was a corresponding change in the shape of ripples of light pulsating on the mirror. The orchestral accompaniment was quite sub- dued most of the time, but every so often it would emit a loud outburst, and the reporter noticed that this always produced a very wide and irregu- lar ripple in the thread of light in the rotating mirror. On the other hand, during the frequent occasions when Doctor Barss exclaimed over the beauty of a tone, the orchestra was subdued, and the voice was causing wave-patterns of perfect evenness. At such times Melba was performing runs, roulades, and trills. As she ran up a scale as rapidly as one could do by drawing a finger sidewise across a piano keyboard, the thread of light showed the tiniest and most uniform ripple. Each trill produced an “accordion-pleated” wave with the crests and valleys lined up as if laid out by a steel square. The pattern was so regular