Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 6, No. 3 (1931-12)

December 1931, Vol. VI, No. 3 45 we noticed that instruments containing the latter types of selections were patronized far more generously than any others, and when the coin boxes were opened and their con- tents counted, we were amazed to find that they had collected three to four times as much as the best patronized of the more ephemeral music. Next day we increased the proportion of better class music, with similar results; and that process went on until we reached a point where considerably more than half of the total number of phono- graphs were supplied daily with music of the best type possible to record on cylinders. And for years thereafter, as long as we main- tained the slot machine parlor in Paris, we found it necessary to give the public a great- er proportion of classic and semi-classic music than of other kinds. It was a revela- tion to me and firmly established in my mind the conviction that the French people, as a whole, have a far more comprehensive knowl- edge and intelligent appreciation of the best in music than those of the United States. In our later experiences in Berlin and London, while we found a much higher standard than that of the United States, the difference was not nearly so marked as between France and America. F. P. A.’s amusing version of the an- nouncement which preceded the selection on all Columbia cylinder records tempts me to say a few words in defence of that long- discarded policy. In the early days of record making, that announcement was as interest- ing to the public as the music itself. To “hear a machine talk” was of itself amazing to most people then and the oral announce- ment was listened to as eagerly and enjoyed as thoroughly as the rest of the reproduction. Columbia records, even in those early days, found their way into all parts of the civilized world and some of the semi-civilized portions. No one thing probably contributed so much to the rapid growth and expansion of Co- lumbia’s business and, indeed, to the univer- sal acceptance of the talking machine as a means of entertainment, instruction, and the cultural influence of music in the home, as that announcement at the beginning of each record. It was advertising, of course, but in a broad sense it was merely the forerunner of the present radio-broadcast method of ad- vertising; and it is not too much to say that the talking machine industry as a whole is largely indebted to it for a more rapid public acceptance of the phonograph as a true musical instrument than would otherwise have occurred, and hence, for the ensuing prosperity that all manufacturers of phono- graphs and records throughout the world subsequently enjoyed as a result of Colum- bia’s novel advertising method. Should Great Artists make Records? By SERGEI RACHMANINOFF The world-famous composer and pianist (in an interview) N OT long ago I was asked to express my opinion as to the musical value of broad- casting. I replied that, to my mind, radio has a bad influence on art, that it destroys all the soul and true significance of music. Since then many people have appeared surprised that, disliking wireless, I should lend myself to recording for the gramophone, as though the two were, in some mysterious way, inti- mately connected. To me it seems that the modern gramo- phone and modern methods of recording are musically superior to wireless transmission in every way, particularly where reproduc- tion of the piano is concerned. I agree that piano recording was not always so successful as it is today. Twelve years ago, when I was making my first records with Edison in America, the piano came out with a thin, tinkling tone. It sounded exactly like the Russian balaika, which as you may know, is a stringed instrument resembling the guitar. And results produced by the accous- tical process in use when I began to record for “His Master’s Voice” in 1920 were far from satisfactory. It is only the perfecting of electrical recording during the last three years combined with recent astonishing im- provements in the gramophones themselves that has given us piano reproduction of a fidelity, a variety and depth of tone that could hardly be bettered. I have no hesitation in saying that modern piano recordings do the pianist complete justice. I feel that my records can only help to increase my prestige as an artist. Not that excellent results are by any means limited to my own work. I have heard many