MUSIC'S CHARMS

Evening Post, Volume LXXXVII, Issue 126, 29 May 1914, Page 4

MUSIC'S CHARMS

AND PEOPLE'S OPINIONS A DISCUSSION ON "MARITANA." "It's such a common old thing!" complained Amelia. "Bxecrably popular !" I agreed. "Anytliing in music that's popular cannot be good." "Oh, I don't mean that at all," Amelia objected. "Then what do you mean when you say 'Maritana' is 'common'?" "It's simply tuney — nothing more. It's not Good music." Amelia spoke the adjective with a capital letter, so I presumed she knew something about Good music. I asked her to define it. "Oh, 1 can't exactly explain right off," she replied. "Good music is — music with something in it, like Mendelssohn or Schubert, or Wagner." t sneered. "A y.&ry excellent explana* lion." "Now, George," said Amelia, "you know you don't know anything about music — technically, at least, for you don't play any instrument — so you can't afford to be sarcastic." I indignantly protested that I loved music. "That's nothing. You don't Understand it.'" "Ah, indeed." I murmured sagely. "That's the pomt — understand it. lam one of those misguided wretches who have not given their lives to the study of music and only look for pleasure in, it." "You are silly and ignorant," said Amelia severely. "One does not have to give one's life to it." Aiy dignity was hurt. "Ignorant I may be of the technicalities of music, but I have as good a perspective of it as any one." "Oh, and what does this perspective show you. Mr. Know- All?" _ "It shows me, my dear girl, that a suigle thing cannot appeal to all classes of the community. A butchur may remain unmoved at the sight of a beautiful oil painting ," but he will shed tears of affection over a piece of meat. It is to his eternal discredit, I admit, that he has not forsaken his business and studied arfr; but the fact remains that he has not done so. Similarly, to my shame, I have not forsaken my stocks and shares for the, study of music. We therefore have two sections of tho public as i regards music : those who do understand it and those who don't. The former are a small minority. The latter are divided into two sub-sections : those comnion people who merely like music, and those eminently respectable people who profess to understand it. Now, it is only those learned people who understand music and those respectable people j who profess to understand music that make themselves heard in the musical world." "Don't the common people get their fill of ragtime?" "The realm of ragtime comprises tho picture-shows, and people go thero for the 'movies,' not music. By the musical world 'I mean entertainments in music alone. And, as I have said, it is only the elite of the musical world who make themselves heard. Now the Common Eeople, ofiwhCm I am one, are far from eing in a minority : should not they be considered?" "They get the oratorios, Handel and Mendelssohn and Gounod," retorted Amelia. "What more understandable could you have?" . "They do not get 'Maritnna' — at' least, you object to it." " 'Murilaiia' is not to be compared." "But' it is to be considered,"' I certainly think 'Maritana' is good enough for Wellington." , - ' "What does Wellington think?" said Amelia, smiling, " Wellington thinks it thinks, but it doesn't. In reality, WeJlingt6n jukt loves 'Maritana,' but musical and would-be musical people won't admit it." " Nonsense, George. It's common." "What's in a name?" I quoted, ab-sent-mindedly. " What do you mean, you silly fellow ?" "Yes, Amelia," I continued, as though unheeding her question, "'Maritana ' is too common — too melodious — too- well known. And — unpardonable fault — it wwars r written by an itinerant English - Irishman named Wallace ! What's more, the wretched composer has actually been in Wellington, and part of the opera is 'said to have been, written here! The thing is condemned at once." " I don't follow you," said Amelia. "Well! English music is unattractive enough in itself ; melodious English music is worse ; melodious Eng-lish-colonial music is worst. It is\ positively reprehensible. Elgar is English, but he has a respectable name ; and, moreover, his music has proved its respectability by its incomprehensibility. Buti Wallace ! — this man with the ordinary name and the tuneful^ opera, that was partly written in Wellington. It's impossible! Where's the romance of it? 'Where is the classical atmosphere that clings to ' good ' music and imparts an .air of such respectability to those who appreciate 'it? .... Ah !" I continued, sadly. "If only he had called himself by some unpronounceable foreign name — even Vallacio would do ! If only he had kept out of New Zealand. . . »" I ' paused, -and heaved a great sigh at having freed these pent-up sentiments of mine. I was not without a little selfsatisfaction, too, at having conquered Amelia. At length she broke the silence. "You're quite wrong!" she said, conclusively. (I was considerably crushed, for' I had thought I had a converts) " And you're not a bit musical," she added. "Neither is Wallace's name," I replied, lugubriously. Amelia turned petulantly on the pianostool and closed the discussion by running her fingers over the keys of tho piano. I had been crushed ; nevertheless I chuckled . inwardly ; for the critic was strumming v " Alexander's Rag-time Band !"■ — " ALLEGRO.^