THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 25324, 4 November 1944, Page 10

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

(By L.D.A.) Ever since the advent of radio one famous musician has been conspicuous by his absence from broadcasting/studios. Fritz Kreisler has hitherto resisted every inducement and blandishment to appear before the microphone in person. But a few months ago he succumbed to an offer of 5,001) dollars for each of five broadcasts over the National Broadcasting Company's United States network in a programme known as " The Telephone ''Hour." This sum is equivalent to a fee of £I,OOO a broadcast, for about 15 minutes' playing—pretty fair remuneration. Even a waterside worker might envy such pay.

• * * * Kreisler's real reasons for consistently refusing to broadcast earlier are still obscure," despite a statement he made recently. It was understandable during the early years when radio was technically imperfect for instrumental reproduction. However, Kreisler's attitude later became somewhat of a mystery in view of the tremendous technical improvements in broadcasting. It became doublv mysterious when one considers that kreisler for many years made recordings at a time when recording technique could not be compared to modern broadcasting. •i» . •

Explaining .the factors that led up to his decision to appear on the air, Kreisler says, " Most important to me were the innumerable letters coming from the more isolated places of America, asking me to broadcast. Many of these people have never been able to hear a recital beca'use of lack of money or because they are too far from the cities. Also, now with wartime travelling so difficult, I have had to reduce the number of my concerts each season. So 1 felt that if so many people were kind enough to write and ask me to broadcast, and I could not play for them in any other way, I should seriously consider radio."

Iti an attempt to clarify his lengthy avoidance of radio, Kreisler continues, " Until the last few years, when I have been living in America, I never had time to broadcast because of heavy concert schedules. And I did not want to broadcast until I had time to learn the technique of ,the microphone. Now I have ler.rned something about radio and I hope I am ready. I have been listening to many programmes and studying them, and I finally decided that the telephone hour was the programme where I could perhaps play my best." Although this explanation does not completely clear up the matter, because surely one or two broadcasts a year would not have interfered seriously with a concert schedule, no matter how heavy, we shall probably -have to be satisfied with it until Kreisler writes his memoirs * * * • Perhaps in no other respect do individuals differ from one another more than in appreciation of humour. Particularly is this true of American humour, which does not invariably excite our risible faculty. But the following extract from the New York ' Courier ' points a musical moral, hesides causing a laugh:— • (Scene. —Buffet of the Metropolitan Opera House during a performance of a Ring music drama. Middle-aged man and young man are standing at the bar. Old man sits alone, at nearby table, drinking. Pays onty occasional attention to the conversation of the other two.).

Y.M. (to bartender) : Gimme .a double Scotch—quick! BART.: Yessir (pours drinfo). M.A.M.: I'll have the same.

BART.: Very good, sir (as before). M.A.M. (to Y.M.): Excuse me. stranger, are they still yowling down there?

Y.M.: Worse luck. Secoud half of the-thing has just begun. M.A.M.: D'you feel the same about grand opera as I do? < .. Y.M.: I think it's awful. How 'bout you? M.A.M.: I think it's even worse than that. Y.M.: Have a drink with me. M.A.M.: Sure. Double Scotch (to bartender). Keep the soda. Y.M.: Same goes for me. BART, (setting out drinks): There you are, gentlemen. M.A.M.: Here's to longer intermissions.

Y.M.: Tell me, what's the opera tonight? Started so long ago, I forget. M.A.M.: Must be Wagner. Y.M.: Oh, yes, I remember. ' Lohengold,' or something, from the ' Ring-a-Ring-a-Rosy.' I been here since 6 o'clock.

M.A.M.: Seems to nie I been here % week. , • ■ Y.M.: Opera"drives me nuts. M.A.M.: (Me, too. Have another. Y.M,: Sure. Two. more. (To bap. tender) Set 'em up, buddy. M.A.M.:.Wouldn't be so bad if they only wouldn't sing. Y.M.: Sing? iou mean howl. (Imitates.) Mwaahhhh! • / M.A.M.: Don't they know there's people in there trying to sleep? YJM.: You said it. 1 was nice and napping waay back in the corner of' the box, when some bellowing tenor woke me up. M.A.M.: Zat so? Well, 1 wasn't in my box almost the first half. I was out here. | Y.M.: Lucky devil. My wife caught me trying to sneak out. M.A.M.: Your wife makes you come here, too?

Y.M.: Cert'ny'did. And that's Mipt all. She drags me here once a week. M.A.M.: So does mine. Every Monday night. Y.M.: Mine, too. And what's more, she, drags rne all the way from Philadelphia. M.A.M.: Yes? S'fuhny; so does mine. r

Y.M.:F'm Philadelphia? M.A:M.: Yeah! YM.: Ydu from Philadelphia? - ■» M.A.M:: Uh, huh. Y.M.: Solii I. "Have another drink.' M.A.M.: Okay. '■ , ' Y.M, (to bartender): Two moredoubles. M.A.M.: Small world, what? Y.M.: Yes; smaller all th' time. ftI.A.M.: Shay, where vou live in Philadelphia? , ' " :

Y.M.: Chestnut street. M.A.M.: You do? Why, I live on Chestnut street!

Y.M.: Ah, you're kidding. What number Chestnut?

M.A.M.: No kidding. Number. i» hunnerd fifty-two, north. Y.M.: Hunnerd fifty-two? Thash my number, too. M.A.M.: Aw, go on! Same number P.' Y.M.: Sure. M.A.M.: Wha' floor? Y.M.: Seventh. M.A.M.: Seventh? Tash my floor. Y.M.: Whash number your apartment? M.A.M.: Let's see—urn! It's Eight B.

Y.M.: Wh—l'm in Eight B, too. OLD MAN (turns and regards speakers with interest). M.A.M.: Hey—Whash your name?

Y.M.: Henry Barker McGillicuddv. M.A.M.: Gosh! Tash my name, too. OLD MAN (to bartender): Am F going dippy? Or what is this?

BART.: Oh, doji't mind them. It's father and son. They haven't recognised each other yet. (THE END—QUICKLY.)