THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 20346, 30 November 1929, Page 26

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[Written by “ L.D.A.,” for the ‘Even ing Star.’]

Music gives tone lo the universe, wings to the wind, flight to the imagination, a charm to sadness, gaiety, and life to everything.—Plato.

If any doubts had previously existed concerning the serious position in which many professional musicians find themselves as a result of the substitution of dialogue and synchronised films in place of silent pictures, they must now he dispelled by the disclosures made at the conference of New Zealand musicians held last Monday in Dunedin. It appears that only three theatres in the whole dominion are _ employing orchestras at the present time, but 'it the enthusiasm of theatrical patrons is any criterion tho ( indications are that a general reinstatement of orchestral players would receive universal approbation, especially from those who are painfully susceptible to the shortcomings of mechanical music. The American conception of musical accompaniment is entirely at variance with that of the average listener in other countries. It is, perhaps, fortunate for the out-of-work performers that this is so; otherwise the lot of musicians seeking re-employment might be a hopeless one.

For. it cannot be denied, the improvement in reproduction shown by the talkies during the last few months is very remarkable—in fact, I have heard performances which approached actuality in a manner almost uncanny, and certainly disconcerting to one who has always challenged the possibility of the mechanical process ever rivalling the efforts of living artists. For instance. it was recently my good loriune t.o see and hear Giovanni Martinelh, one.of the world’s greatest tenors, sing an excerpt from Verdi’s ‘ Aida.’ in a manner that could not have been excelled had the distinguished vocalist been really present in person. There was not the least suggestion of any gramophone tone or other mechanical atmosphere. Th© illusion was so perfect that one quite forgot the artist existed only in shadow form, and was not. in fact, standing on the stage before, us. And -what a superb voice! What supreme artistry in rendering and gesture! Martinelli made a superb figure in’ the dress of the period. _ He has limbs like a Roman centurion, and beautiful hands that are as expressive as Ins voice.

P.robably no composer who ever lived changed his stylo of composition to such an extent as did Verdi. It is true that Wagner’s later operas reveal a vastly different mentality from that of his early works, but they are still recognisable as Wagner; whereas no one could identify the composer of, say, ‘ Itigoletto ’ with the man who wrote ‘ Aida,’ an opera which exhibits a definite land mark in his evolution. For a long time Verdi seemed to struggle against tho temptation to exalt the orchestra at the expense of the voice—which is the one weakness in Wagner that lias done much to alienate the sympathies of many musicians. Whatever may be urged against the triviality of Italian opera, this at least must bo emphasised: the instinct of its exponents to rely almost solely upon the human voice for dramatic expression is unquestionably sound and incontrovertible. The power of song to enchain tho listener has not wavered through the centuries, and the voice—iu its supreme form—will probably ever remain the most compelling instrument of musical expression.

The difficulty of how to dispose of the hands has always been a problem to singers. Some of them overcome it bv holding a sheet of music _ before them. Either open or folded it matters not. so long as the lingers have something tangible to clutch, and thereby prevent that somewhat ludicrous. but quite common, spectacle of hands seemingly out of control, and vainly groping for imaginary strings of sausages or straws to save their owner from a watery grave. In the talkies lately there was a comic'illustration of how not to hold the hands by Dale Smith, an English baritone, who in ‘ D’yo Ken John Peel?’ and ‘Who’s That A-Cailing?’ very effectively demonstrated tho wrong use of gesture. Nevertheless, the very fact that one’s criticism is directed at such points, more or less trivial, as these goes to prove that the speaking film is becoming every day better and better in every way, and is now in very truth a most formidable menace to those who depend upon the performance of music for a livelihood.

Tho really curious thing that puzzles many is why the American producer, with unlimited money at his command, and the almost inexhaustible artistic resources of a vast continent to draw upon, should content himself by engaging only second-rate musicians to provide tho accompanying music to the socalled sound-synchronised films, for it must bo admitted the majority of these scores are from the musical standpoint feeble in the extreme. A typical example is furnished by the recentlyexhibited picture ‘The Divine Lady,’ which deals with the mam episodes in tho lives of Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton. Hero we have a truly artistic and well-made film admirably cast and acted, positively ruined by a music score which in the hands of a master of the art might have risen to great heights. Tho scope is there. Not a word ol dialogue is spoken throughout tho action, winch lias to be illustrated entirely by appropriate melody.- Without exaggeration it can be said there is not a docent piece of music in the whole show. Here and there one discerns a suggestion of something good to come, only to be rudely disappointed. The leit-motif ” business is done to death. Every time Nelson appears on the. screen a bar, perhaps two, of ‘ Rule, Britannia ’ is Heard, quite regardless of the dramatic situation; whilst what is termed the “ themo song,” which is merely a cheap advertising stunt on behalf of some Yankee song publisher, is repeated again and again ad nauseam to coincide with the appearances of Lady Hamilton (charmingly played by Gorinne Griffith), until one positively loathes tho thing. This psoudoWa"iicrianism is actually carried to the length of making the rival national tunes light each other during the. battles of the Nile and Trafalgar, both of which are a triumph of the screen producer’s art, but a travesty ol what the music lor such scenes ought to be.

So long as this kind of thing remains the ideal of the American motion picture bosses, so long will there remain hope for musicians of other lands, who in this particular held can do infinitely better that is, where there is no clause in the film renter’s contract making the use of the mechanical score mandatory, which, 1 believe, often occurs. But when the musical side of the matter is left optional, the chance presents itself for local orchestral conductors to demonstrate the latent possibilities for music in the cinema.

The ultimate influence exerted in our midst by the dissemination of Yankee all-dialogue picture plays is n subject which does not properly come within the province of this column, except in so far as the human voice may be described as musical or the reverse. Anything less like music ' than the speaking voices heard in ‘ Broadway, for example, it would be difficult to imagine. It seems to me that each succeeding generation of Americans adds its nasal quota to the ever-increas-ing divergence of transatlantic speech from resemblance to the mother tongue, so that there would appear to be an inevitable ultimate severance of the links of similarity, resulting in an adenoidal jargon unintelligible outside.the borders of jazz-land.

Dunedin’s City Fathers have been much exercised in their minds of lute over the question of pitch as applied to tho tone of tho new organ, and the mayor is reported to have said that the pitch decided upon for the instrumen was C 522. Should this prove to bo correct —and there seems' no reason to doubt it—difficulties may later on present themselves when it is proposed to use the organ in conjunction with an orchestra, because orchestral wind instruments are nearly all constructed at the pitch of 54U, which is almost a semitone higher. The history of different pitches is rather interesting, as they led to clashes of various factions in the old days that may be described literally as pitched battles. In the time of Bach, Mozart, Handel, Haydn, Beethoven—that is to say, when the founders and perfecters of musical art were paramount—the pitch in universal use was, roughly, C 515. This, therefore, may emphatically be termed the classipitch, which—for a century or so—■ satisfied all demands and appeared to be permanent.

Unhappily this placid state of affairs was disturbed during tho nineteenth century. The orchestra began to develop and' assume greater importance, its wind instruments in particular being much improved and new varieties added, the brilliance of which was found to be enhanced by raising the pitch. In an orchestra tho wind instruments form the standard to which all others must conform; consequently a gradual rise in pitch became general until it assumed revolutionary proportions. When Strauss brought over an orchestra to London in 1897 tho pitch he used was A4s7—or over » semitone above that customary up to Beethoven’s day. Such a_ change was attended by many inconveniences and disadvantages. Undeniably tho tone was more brilliant, the pianoforte especially acquiring thereby an increased and attractive sonority. But, generally speaking, the want of uniformity in pitch threw tho musical world into confusion, the constant and increasing elevation of pitch presented difficulties by which the musical art, composers, artists, and instru-ment-makers all suffered equally; also, tho differences in the pitches of various countries contributed a good deal to the general embarrassment.

As far as France was concerned, the national pitch was fixed by a legal decree in 1860, to the great advantage of musical interests in that country; but in England there was for a long time a very mixed state of affairs that not only complicated the business of manufacturers of musical instruments, but undoubtedly exercised a deleterious influence upon musical education. It is only of recent years that what is known as Continental or philharmonic pitch has become the rule in the Old Country, though the instruments used in military bands there are still at the high pitch. So it comes about that the flutes and clarinets mostly to be found in New Zealand are fixed .at 540, or concert pitch, and this is going to prove a decided drawback, as I remarked previously, if and when an orchestra is employed in Dunedin’s Town Hall as an adjunct to tho organ.

<To bo continued.)