WHISTLING DEFENDED.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 56, Issue 64, 27 December 1935, Page 8

WHISTLING DEFENDED.

THE HEIGHT OF ARTISTRY. ANTIQUE AND UNIVERSAL. There exists in the community a deep-rooted but inexplicable prejudice against tlftit most delicate of arts, whistling, and those stalwarts that persist in the face of implicit and expressed opposition in practising this form of music have to suffer greatly from the jibes and sneers of those who are diffident of their own attempts and scornful of the virtuosity of others, and those who, , while secretly admiring, are prone to jeer aloud. This should not be. Let it be admitted from the first that there are whistlers and whistlers, just as we have Vauber and Bing Crosby in another, though no nobler, sphere of musical accomplishment, and it must he acknowledged, too, that a bad whistler has more power to infuriate thO hapless listener than a poor pianist or even a neurotic crooner. But this is in itself a testimony to the high rank of the art of whistling. So difficult is it of accomplishment that very few can really whistle; and whereas the veriest amateur can elicit applause by stumbling through the “Appassionata” on the piano, it is only the talented whistler that can struggle into even the first page. Everyone Whistles. Moreover, whistling is practised by everyone; some whistle in the supposed isolation of the bathroom, and, when questioned, blush confusedly over their efforts; some, more brazen, whistle as they wander through their homes; others, still more hardened sinners, indulge their flair for wkliistling in the street or in the office; but they all whistle, and they all enjoy it. Whistling, then, is universal in a truer sense than singing, or crooning, or playing any musical instrument, and it possesses the great advantage over some other branches of so-called higher musical production in that it is always with us; a cold removes the voice, but we can still whistle with a delightful abandon and no harm to our throats. Whistling, moreover, is an art of great antiquity; it is an accomplishment of birds, and also of the elephant which, a song of long ago informs us, is wont to “whistle like a cow.” The Chinese were inveterate whistlers, and it is apparently from this predisposition of the race that arose their liking for that delicacy, bird’s-nest soup. Thus we may answer confidently when assailed by erstwhile friends that we whistle because we like it, and because they like it too. And there is something also to be said: whistling is an art which reaches its highest development without the necessity for a large outlay upon either instruments or tuition fees.