WORLD OF MUSIC

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 18 April 1925, Page 10

WORLD OF MUSIC

The system of lessons through the papers during the time ql' the epidemic* was continued in another direction in Canterbury, where some of she newspapers "printed the whole of the one of two Good Friday and Faster hymns, in, order to endeavour tp interest tlie young people iii them.

CHOIR, WORK. Thp special Good Friday and Faster work of' the choirs is now a 'thing of the past—-they are all to be congratulated oji the work done—and they will settle down more or less to their ordinary routine. It is, however, a good plan for choirmasters always to nave something before their choir which induces a special interest. It serves to maintain a keenness that helps very much. MALE CHOIR. The work of the choir continues solitl, and they are rapidly getting close to their'first concert of the year. Practices, on the whole, have been good, hut it would help conductors if members generally wcaiid indulge in a little personal practice. A little technical work every day would improve the work pf the combined choir, and likewise add much to the pleasure of the individual member. OPERATIC SOCIETY. The committee have not yet announced their decision in regard to the next performance. The months, however, are passing, and members are keenly anxious to get into regluar work. It is to be honed the committee will be able to secure the particular opera they wish. A great deal depends on the selection made. Gilbert and Sullivan, if at all possible, would be immensely popular.

A FAMOUS SINGER

HER EARLY STRUGGLES

(Sydney Morning Herald). In a series of interesting articles Madame Galli-Curci, the distinguished singer, tells of her early struggles, and relates how her hopes and ambitions of becoming a prima dona were realised. Inter alia, she says of her earlylife: —“My very first appearance in opera was made at Trani, a little town in the far south of Italy. Gilda, in the great Verdi’s “Rjgolettq,” was the role I saiig. My mother had accompanied me there from our horne in Milan. On that eventful night a terrific rainstorm broke. Unable to afford a cab to drive to the theatre, we walked there under a big umbrella, 1 carrying ray make-up for the stage in a little basket on my arm. The occasion proved momentous in a .double sense. Before that evening my mother had been opposed to my going into opera ; hearing the storm of applause which followed mv singing of the aria “Caro Nome,” she said, “Amelita, you have chosen wisely. ’ ’ Without her full and free approval, I should never have been happy i n my singing life. The rain was still beating down when we left the brilliant lights of the theatre behind us, to trudge through darkness to pur lodgings. - But. what mattered that? I had been frantically received by the audience, and, better yet, my mother had acknowledged that the life of a prima donna was the right one for me. To be sure, the fee I got was scarcely riches, the equivalent of £1 8s far singing a whole opera; but I was to appear ten times, and it made a beginning. Fortunately, living in Trani was in those days miraculously cheap. For our rooms we paid at the rate'of Is 8d per day, and one could eat oneself to death in Trani for tenpence. There was another fortunate thing in the situation. I did not have to spend a penny for my costumes, as the theatre provided them. I thought little of illy dress off the stage. For a whole season I wore a black tailored suit, white collar and cuffs, always freshly laundered. It may not have looked pretentious, .but it was neat. And so my £1 8s for each performance kept us b°th. Perhaps it makes strong contrast to my singing life to-day. But I as was happy then as I am now, for I was doing the one thing that I loved best in the world. And"anyon# who does that is. surely rich.

ENGAGED FOR CONSTANZI. Presently I was to learn what seemed to me a fortune. A wealthy old Frenchman of 75. who heard me at the Trajii Opera, had concerts at home every night for his own pleasure. He engaged .me to sing. For a month my mother and I went to Pisa, where lie had his residence. My fee for the four weeks .was 1500 lira, or £6O. And lie kindly sent a piano to the room where mother and I lived. Two other musicians were also egaged to assist in the programmes, the first violin and ’cello from the opera at Milan. Living economically, 1 put money into the bank. The engagement finished, we left for Rome. Going to the manager of the Constant Theatre, the foremost there, I asked, “Please will you hear me sing?” He did. And lie engaged me. I sang in two operas, “Rigoletto,” which I had sung at Trani, and “Don Procopio,” by Bizet, learning the latter in two weeks. My success in Rome was such that they retained me for five months. The fee was small, being the equivalent of £2O monthly. However, in our little room, up somewhere near the hotel roof, we entertained noted painters, musicians, and poets. Now, we always.entertained them to tea, for that was cheaper. All this had been as sunrise to my singing day. Life lay before me, for I was only 20 years old.

The people who had heard me at Trani, Pisa, and later at the big Constanzi Theatre in Rome, had been very lovely to me. Presently, other audiences at Alexandria and Cairo, in Egypt, were to be the same. Soon after these successes, and having sung in 'opera throughout Italy, I was called to the Royal Opera in Madrid. The splendid reception that they gave me there is unforgettable. Perhaps these things made contrast to the struggle which preceded them. But it is well to have to struggle; it is well to have to work. I never realised that either one was hard. I W.as having a grand time, and would have been bored to death if I had had all the money I needed without the joy of earning it. From my earliest recollection my mother was watching over me. As a little thing of six years old I was sent to a German day school in Milan. There I learned English, French, and German. Italian was, of course my native tongue; my mother being Spanish I learned that language in babyhood. Every morning, winter and summer, mother woke me at 5 o’clock to study. She always helped me with my lessons, and she it was, too, who first taught me piano and the little songs I sang. In my young girlhood our associations were those of sisters. Strongly religious, there were two things she impressed upon me, saying, “Conscience is God, always listen to

it,” and, again, “There can be no contentment where there is no virtue.”

My father spoke French, English, German ; he drew beautifully, and was exceedingly musical. Every morning before he went to business he would sit down at the piano and play. He should have been a musician. The opera of “Norma” was one of his favourites, and he could play lofig sections of Wagner’s “Tristan and Isolde” without missing a note, which made it very hard for me to prepare for school and listen to him at the same time.

At Christmas we always had a family reunion, when each one had to contribute music to the programme. Grandmother and grandfather would come. She had been a noted prima donna, Madame Galli-Roti; he was an orchestra conductor. At upwards of 70 she could still sing charmingly, and lie, older still, would play her accompaniments on. the piano. One Christmas night—l was 5* years old then —I sang a little song. ' Imagine my awed delight when grandmother took me in her arms afterwards and said, “Amelita, you will one day be a greater prima donna than your grandmother!” AN EDUCATION SCHEDULE. Perhaps the plan of my education would sound severe if I did not explain. it. In reality it was easy, for my father had written out a schedule arid nut it on my little bedroom door. Rising at 5 in the morning I would study, and then practise piano for an hour ’and a half before school, which i returned at 5 o’clock. Then would come another hour and a half at the piano. On Sunday I was allowed to go out, and on Saturday nights I was taken to a good play or the opera at La Seal a, Milan’s great opera house. But before we went, father would ask me, “Are you through with your duties? If I answered “Yes” he would say “You can go.” At 13 years of age i was ready lor the Lyceo, the higher school at Milan, and the conservatory there. I had longed to study singing, but my father, thinking wisely that every girj, no matter what her circumstances, should have a medium by which to earn her living, decided that 1 should become a concert pianist. So I. obeyed. Graduating from the two institutions simultaneously, I received the conservatory I gold medal for piano. At this juncture misfortune came to us. Mv father failed in business. To pay our indebtedness, everything went. Our lovely furniture was sold. We moved from our ten-roomed ‘apartment to one of four little rooms in another part of the city. My mother had a bird that she particularly loved. When we two left our old home together, I carried in one hand a clock she prized, and in tlie other the cage with her bird. And thus we tramped across the city, as it cost too much to take a cab. But mother had to laugh, too, when I kept on saying : “Here go the nobility!” Putting my hair up and lengthing my dresses to add a greater dignity to* my sixteen years, I went aliout among our friends to ask: “Do you know anyone who wants a. piano teacher?” To mv delight, a number did. And the fact that I had just graduated with honours from it he (conservatory made an impression. In order to teach, I had to walk from one house to another. I loved mv pupils, and I think they loved me. ifhe independence that earning brought proved a real joy. Always I had hated to ask my father for money to buy clothes. RESOLVED TO BE A SINGER.

In childhood and early girlhood there had been in my head the firm conviction, that I had a voice. And the thought came to me, “I will not remain in this teaching always.” Though earning enough to support the family, I was not able to pay a vocal instructor. So I began to train my voice myself. Every moment- I could spare, I studied alone. At lunch time, for instance I had half an hour free, and, like all other free moments, I turned it into account by singing arpeggios. And it refreshed me. After a long day’s work, I would go into society at" night, for helping to entertain by my music brought me new pupils. For four years this regime continued, and I worked and studied. I had patience; I fe-lt that I was going to succeed, but that I could not do so at once. If one wants to work and lias confidence one will surely gain the goal.” It has been said that hardship and struggle secure the very greatest and highest work. If that is so, then surely the great Galli-C'urci had the right apprenticeship for the wonderful position she attained in the world of singing.

There is no denying the great popularity of Hawaiin music, no getting away from the fact that the ukelele is finding its way into favour. For this the gramophone is in some sort responsible. ' The Hawaiians have certainly developed "a music of their own, afid it is genuine folk music. But the Hawaiin musicians have not stopped af songs that have had their origins in the islands, and- are expressive of romantic love and the emotions aroused by the dplce far iiiente surroundings.'The genuine article, “Aloha Oe,” by Queen Liliuokaleni, is finely filter preted by the Toots Paka Hawaiian Company, and by Pboney’s Hawaiian Sextet. ‘lnstrumental performances of Mahina Malamala, Hula Hula, He Lei no Kaiulaui, are also recorded, and give a clear idea of the development of music among a p'eople so closely connected with the Maori, and show tfie possibilities of taro-patch fiddle and the Hawaiian adaptation of the guitar. The most interesting thing about this music is that it is so popular with peoples who have no trace of tfie Polynesian about them.