BRITISH SONG MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 19021, 17 August 1925, Page 3

BRITISH SONG MUSIC

ADDRESS BY MR G. W. JOHNSTONE I In the course of an address on British song music given by him at the University Club on Friday night, Mr G. W. Johnstone said:- _ “During my_ recent visit to England I was continually asked the question: ‘Do you think wa are musical?’ The folk over there seem to have doubts on the point. The people from the Continent one meets in London have no doubts about the matter. To me there seemed to ho much evidence in favor of the view that wo were in a fair way to once more take our place among the leading musical nations of the world; and in this connection it is well to remember that up till the end of the_ seventeenth century we were the musical nation._ There is much cause for congratulation when one sees the work that is accomplished in the schools _in _ the way of sight singing, part singing, and musical appreciation classes.

“ I notice that there are 100 applicants for the position of director of music to Now Zealand schools, and that Dr Walford Davies is to make the final selection. I am pleased that at long last we have reached this important milestone in the musical liio of our country. I am delighted that the choice is to be made by Walford Davies. Ho has a delightful sense of humor, and no doubt ho will choose _ a man after his own heart. Tin's is well; otherwise I much fear that the new director would be a very sirk man for a long time. This is not a reflection on the teachers, who are battling along as best they can with the time _at their disposal, but on tlio system, which permits three or four qualified singing teachers to be teaching in one school while three or four schools around them are starving for ono teacher. The new director will require to start a summer school for teachers, and 1 believe that he,will advocate a specialist tor each large school to look after music in its various branches. When this comes about I am sure our teachers will rise to the occasion and fit themselves for these important positions, for at present there _is an abysmal ignorance of tlio subject. It is not merely sufficient that they should sing welt themselves, although that is an excellent asset, but it cannot bo too strongly emphasised that they should have a sound working knowledge of the mechanics of voice production, for untold harm can bo and is done by allowing children to_ misuse their voices during the primary school course. I am strongly of the opinion that capable women are better than men in these positions. They pattern better for the children, and we all know that tho child is a good mimic.

“There is enough evidence to justify us in the conviction that wo are forging ahead musically. There is no possible doubt that during the last generation we have made great progress in the art of song writing. It is not so very long ago since Stephen Adams and W. H. Jude reigned supreme—‘ The Holy City,’ ‘ The Little I Hero,’ ‘ Thora-Nirvana,’ and songs of | that type, with accompaniments that | climbed to heaven on full chords of Triplets; songs that it took a long Time to sing, and that finished on a | high note. To-day tlio is brevity, and that increases the difficulty lor both composer and singer. The British composer of to-day is a man of wide sympathies and education. Generally speaking, ho is selecting bis lyrics wisely. There is what wo have always looked upon as a British atmosphere about them—sound sentiment, fresh air, hopefulness, sorrow, with dignity. He leaves the mawkish alone. This is all to the good. Mon such as Vaughan Williams, Bant.ock, Cyril Scott, Stanford, Elgar, Hughes, and Phillips—to name only a tew—do not waste time over trashy verse. To-day’s composer dislikes the obvious; consc•quontly (hero are more surprises in bis work. You turn the corner and find .something quite unexpected. And, thanks be, they have lost the top-note habit, which was the joy of the tenor. How be loved to bang on to it regardless of rhythm or sense, while all the while lie became redder and redder in the face, as though he were being ga rot tod by unseen hands. The charm of a great number of our modern songs is undeniable, and wc must encourage the singing of them. I ani not under-estimating such glorious song writers as Schubert,. Franz, Brahms, and Hugo Wolf, but I think that our own musicians are sotting lyrics to music that appear to be more bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, and doing it well.

“ This leads me naturally to speak of our language, ,1s it a good singing language? Yes, certainly it is. Let us admit at once that it is more difficult to sing than Italian, but is it any less artistic for that? J have yet to learn that ease leads to depth, and ours is a finely expressive language, with its sonorous vowels and army of expressive consonants. It is a rich language, and the sooner vocalists realise it and cease to give us so many songs without words the sooner will they have taken a step forward in their art. We should not bo content to follow tlio line of least resistance.

“Thou there is the Bigtone . habit. I The modern song does not cater for it to any groat extent, but it requires cultured voice production and musical instinct—songs in which the physiological and psychological are inseparable. Physiology has had a long innings, but the umpire has waved him back to the pavilion, and psychology is baiting. He is no slogger. Watch him! See the grace with which he turned that ball to the boundary. Physiology used to hit with every ounce that was in him and run his four. Psychology stood in his crease and by perfect timing and a dick of the wrist accomplished the task. So it is in art. It has its Bonner and Trumpet - , its Patsy Hendren and its Jack Hobbs. I said the umpire has called to physiology ‘You’re out,’ and has waved him back to the pavilion. Who is the umpire? Some say the groat paying public, but it is not so in art any more than it is in cricket. Only that small percentage of the public who are competent to criticise arc umpires. This is where the expert comes in, and if bad judgments are broadcasted so much the worse for tho art. It is the artist’s duty' to raise the standard of his art, and if ho waits for tho public to do it, or if lie plays down to his public, ho is to blame, “The gramophone has done much to improve musical taste. In a recently cabled interview Mr W. H. Squire, the noted English ’cellist, says , that ‘ musical evenings and the amateur musician are disappearing, being extinguished by the gramophone and broadcasting.’' Ho goes on to say; ‘ The piano and tire fiddle will soon be as out of date in tho average British home asantimacassars and wax flowers. . . .

iEsthotically, this is a healthy movement, ns music will now be left to the man who knows it is necessary, and is prepared to spend his lifetime at the job.’ I met Mr Squire and had a long chat with him. He has a strong sense of humor, and I can well imagine him saying all this with his tongue in his cheek. There is some truth in the statement about ‘ musical evenings,’ hut it is a far cry to the point where the piano will ho out of date in the average British home. It is characteristic of our race that we take delight in doing things, however imperfectly. Music is a means of expression, and the amateur will still ho heard in the land where choral societies, gleo clubs, choirs of all kinds, bands fbrass and military) abound in great profusion. To he a musical nation wo must be doers, not merely hearers. It will he a bad

day for England when the masses cease to study music for its own sake, •oratory has a queer way of repeating itself, and I am Utopian enough to believe that the time is not very far ms tant when we shall see a return to tl e musical evening in preference to bnage or poker. There is already evidence of it in this city, with its circles dotted about here and there, all doing good work, I feel sure.”