THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 20422, 1 March 1930, Page 21

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[Written by “ L.D.A.,” for tho * Evotv ing Star.’] “ Music gives tone to the universe, wings to the wind, flight to tho imagination, a charm to sadness, gaiety and life to everything.”—Plato. Those who were apprehensive about the acoustic properties of the new Town Hall breathed a sigh of relief when the first chords on the great organ proved their fears to be groundless. In spite of all theorising on the subject, the science of acoustics is by no means exact yet, and it is quite impossible for anyone to predict, from a persusal of the architectural plan, whether or not any new building will be a success in this respect. One might even say that the matter rests entirely on the knees of tho goddess of chance, so elusive is the problem of the dreaded echo; in other words, it is a pure tossup, _ and no one can be blamed or praised, whichever way the result goes. Wellington has been most unfortunate with reference to its Town Hall organ; unless there is a house the echo is pronounced and ruins everything, consequently the efforts of a highlycompetent artist at the console are often painfully fruitless and pathetically wasted.

Whilst congratulating all concerned in the general and popular success of Dunedin’s latest municipal acquisition, I must confess to a slight concerning the choice of some of the items that have figured in the week’s musical programmes. The opening organ number, for. instance, Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, whilst quite in order for tljo delectation of connisseurs, is decidedly on the heavy side where a mixed audience is sitting defenceless. Personally speaking,' 1 was brought up on Beth’s fugues, and my veneration for the great Johann Sebastian increases rather than diminishes with the passing of the years; yet I would be the first to admit that this kind of musical fare is very strong meat for the unsophisticated digestion, more especially in a young community where the cultural appetite has not appreciably advanced beyond the stage of mother’s milk. New Zealand’s admirers are well aware of her phenomenal achievements in material progress during the past eighty years; perhaps one of these days we snail evolve a discerning section of the -populace which will throng a concert devoted entirely to Bach fugues, but that day is not yet; and, meanwhile, the well-intentioned concertgiver should bear in mind the popular estimation of a fugue, which some wag has defined as a composition in which several voices run away from each other and the listener runs from them all.

My view is that Dr Price’s selections ranged from the ultra-sublime to the comparatively footling, and consequently suggested a slight lack of balance. Such chestnuts as Rubinstein’s ‘ Melody in F,’ Gounod’s ‘ Funeral March of a Marionette,’ and Mendelssohn’s ‘ Spring Song ’ have surely earned a long, long respite from being troubled by the wicked and righteous alike. They are in the same weary class as ‘Poet and Peasant,’ ‘Light Cavalry,’ and several other numbers of similarly well-flogged nature, which should now be placed on the superannuation list. With the vast repertory of the_ world’s composers to choose from, it is really astonishing how many quite accomplished musicians persist in the same old grooves ad nauseam. Just to take examples at random, I venture to assert that if Dr Price had elected to give us Grieg’s ‘Triumphal March’ from ‘ Sigurd Josalfar,’ or the introduction to the third act from Wagner’s ‘ Lohengrin,’ the general enjoyment of the initial audience would have been much greater, and the resources of the grand instrument would certainly have stood out in bolder relief. Nevertheless, Dunedin is now considerably richer in musical potency, and the nest six months may give some indication as to the efficacy of contrast. The clash of different tastes is, in some measure, the tang of life; hitherto we have had Leslie V. Harvey—now we shall see Harvey v. Price.

Somewhat the same line of criticism might be advanced against the' orchestral items submitted by Signor Squarise, only more unreservedly, because some of his numbers were frankly banal. I have never heard of the composers Foroni and G’inn, whose productions figured in the programme, nor am I anxious to renew the acquaintance. As for Mascagni, if it were imperative to play something by him, the only one possible for such an occasion should have been the famous intermezzo, which, though undeniably well-worn, yet by some inherent preservative power magically retains its pristine charm and appeal. Friedman’s socalled ‘Slavonic Rhapsody’ is an empty, noisy piece of orchestration with _no claims to any sort of musical distinction, and written by a comparative nonentity whose name should never appear on any serious programme; I have been wanting to say this for quite a while, and am really obliged to Signor Squarise for giving me the opportunity.

• • • e Some days ago there appeared in the ‘ Evening Star ’ a chatty and amusing article by Mr C. R. Allen; on the subject of British and German bands, in which he alludes to the connection of Sir Arthur Sullivan’s father with the “ nursery of British band music, Nella Hall,” and hazards a guess as to its geographical location that proves Mr Allen to be no Cockney. : I will do him the justice to say that bis spelling of the name—it be Kneller. Mr Printer—is probably a misprint. The Royal Military School of Music is built on the site of a mansion originally belonging to Sir Godfrey Kneller, a former Court painter. Seventy years have passed since its establishment. Prior to that time there was no official recognition of army bands; the bands of each regiment were then entirely financed and managed by their own officers. There was a state of chaos owing to the different instruments employed by each band and a want of uniformity of pitch, so that massed band performances were quite impossible. Another grievance at this time was tho majority of bandmasters were foreigners. Eventually a general agitation led to a movement which culminated in Government intervention and the formation of Kneller Hall as an institution for the training of instrumentalists and band conductors. It was dedicated to sailors’ and soldiers’ sons who were intended for [either service, and who showed musical aptitude, fn addition to the official head, the comandant, who reigns for four years, there is a permanent director of music and a staff of sixteen professors. The establishment accommodates 180 students, comprising thirty-six for training as bandmasters and 144 pupils for instruction in solo playing. These latter must be possessed of an Army second class certificate .of education, and be already good performers on

their respective instruments. Beginners on the trombone and that fear-some-looking serpentine brass instrument which encircles the player like a gigantic corkscrew —I forget its name temporarily—are thus not permitted tu inflict their first essays upon the sensibilities of the more proficient. Candidates aspiring to be bandmasters must perforce show much higher qualifications. including a first class certificate cate; also they must be n.c.o.s, and highly 'recommended by their commanding officers. The entrance examinations are very stiff; the subjects are advanced harmony, free counterpoint, fugue, and, of course, canon (one “n,” please, Mr Printer). Then there are classes in conducting, training, and rehearsing military bands, orchestral concert work, training of male choirs, church services, also arranging of advanced compositions for. military band and orchestra. Besides this each student has to compose a quick march for band, church voluntaries for orchestra, and choral work for male voices. In addition he must attend classes in world history, English literature, accountancy, and correspondence, also in the preparation and delivery of lectures on musical subjects, and he has likewise to master tjie pronunciation of composers’ names—not always an easy task; witness Mysliwecek and Bydwnowdyncik. In his spare time the student must also seek to master the technical difficulties of every orchestral instrument It will thus be evident to the dullest perception that Kneller Hall students are no sluggards ; they have a very full day, and some of them must covet Joshua’s power to conjure the sun. (To be continued.)