The Radio Listener

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 223, 17 June 1936, Page 5

The Radio Listener

A Chesterton Talk, Station 2YA announces an emergency talk on the late G. K. Chesterton on Friday evening nest, June 19. at 7.35. The speaker wil be the Rev. F. 11. Walsh, who gave the recent broadcast on the ‘'Pickwick” Centenary.

“Waal, Folks!” New Zealand has a most efficient, system for preventing the introduction into tho Dominion of foot-nud-month disease from overseas: but tho protection thill, the law affords to (lie feet and mouths of the country’s domestic ani- | mals is not extended to the ears of i such of their owners as happen to be I radio listeners. Not only must the i latter bear the ether throbbing during the day sessions with the pseudo passions of Bing Crosby, Rudy Vallee, and their emulators, but on the evening concert menu, standard items of diet have too long been "Music ‘At your fireside’ and ‘Round the campfire,“The Easy Chair,” and suchlike cheap American Iranscriptions. All these were til tingly made for and sponsored, in their country of origin, solely by advertisers. They were heard from the snme stations at the same time every day: at tho end of a few weeks being indissolubly associated in the minds of listeners with the thought of the commodity advertised. Even the “music” in most of these transcriptions is not without its taint; but it is the associate drivel that offends the average British colonial ear. At the moment of writing, an “Eas-y Chair” infliction lias just meandere:! to its close, and the obese gentleman who drawled smugly through it of “the happy days of yewth” and “the pethway of dreems” has either gone back to the sleep from which be was apparently never fully awakened, or to tho meal ot marshmallows and sponge cake washed down with beakers of oil and glue, at which he was disturbed. “The Alan in the Street.”

Twice. last week “The Man in the (Street” demonstrated his skill in turning what would otherwise have been ordinary programmes of recordings into most interesting continuity presentations. In the style that has made him so popular, he presented “The Best Thing I Have Recorded—and Why,” ou Wednesday evening, and an excellent local recordings on Sunday afternoon 'entitled “Songs My Mother Taught Me.” In the former, the “-best” recordings of nearly a dozen gramophone celebrities wore heard, annotated in “The Man iu the Street’s” owu charming way; whilst the all-too-short Sunday afternoon presentation was of such songs (with “effects”) as “Robin Adair” and “The Mistletoe Bough.” In t.liis, the foreign flavour of tho theme tune (Dvorak's “Songs My Mother Taught Me”) sounded perhaps a little incongruous, whilst, the hunting scene accompanying “John Peel” sounded more like ratting in the barn than foxhunting. But nevertheless each of these “Man in the Street” sessions was right up to standard, and listeners might profitably watch for a repetition of either or both from one of the other YA stations.

Broadcast Humour. At the conclusion of what was announced in the opening chorus as “the second reading” of Will Bishop’s “Eight, o’clock Revue” from 2YA on Saturday evening, the conversation turned to some aspects of broadcast humour (“assuming that such a thing exists,” ns someone said). What is the “life” of a humorous item? Which is the more important, the subject matter or the personality of the artist? The success or failure of humour depends almost entirely ou the element of surprise—on unexpected twists of tune or words, ft therefore follows mathematically that if the “surprise” diminishes by half at every hearing of the same item, at even the sixth broadcast the listener’s enjoyment, if there is any left, has been reduced to about one-fortieth of what it was originally. And yet nearly every “Music, mirth and melody” session from 2YA, and nearly every ‘.’Variety and vaudeville” session from 2YC for an unpardonably long period, has included “Buying a House,” "Laughing Gas” or “Three Hapence a Foot.” Even Clapham and Dwyer on "Golf,” which was popular with gramophiles before they substituted loudspeakers for their gramophones.

The best humour should be beard only once—a fact proved by those recordings mentioned above. .Subsequent hearings merely emphasise weaknesses, and tend to dispel what might have been a good first impression. The programme staff of the New Zealand Broadcasting Board, of course, appreciates this, but is forced to repeat the same humour for two reasons: one, the comparative shortage of good humorous recordings, and the other, the necessity for catering for those who, even at the nth broadcasting of the same record, still may not have happened to hear it. The latter reason must unfortunately always exist, but the shortage of recorded humour caL be to some extent compensated for by the regular presentation of such a fine type of programme as the alreadymentioned “Eight O’clock Revue.” Whether or not “the laugh” in humour depends on the material that is presented or the manner of its presentation. is a moot point The famous gramophone humourist. Norman Dong, may be said to rely chiefly on bis material, as also does New Zealand’s own Will Bishop; whilst the appeal of Harry Tate (of “Motoring” fame), and Gracie Fields lies chiefly in the personality they manage to make evident in their numbers. An outstanding example of personality overcoming unsuitable material was the ease of John Tilley (who died some six months ago, but who is often heard in “The Company Promoter.” etc.). lie was “sans everything”—job, home, food—when ho tried selling insurance on commission in London. Desperate at. the end of the first unsuccessful week he approached the lessee of tlie ’Windmill Theatre, who was so amused at his frantic attempts to insure his life that he there and then made him principal comedian in his theatre. Under the circumstances neither Norman Long or Will Bishop would have appealed, but their humour is as good, in its way, as that of John Tilley.