MUSIC.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 19374, 9 January 1925, Page 3

MUSIC.

NOTES AND RECORDS. The Berlin correspondent of a London paper writes: — “Richard Strauss’s 'lntermezzo’ was presented for the first time to the public at Dresden Last evening (November 5), with all the familiar outward signs of a lasting success. At the close of the performance the composer was called out a score of times. The special musical correspondent sent to Dresden by the Berlin papers also are ecstatic as usual in their praise of Strauss’s mastery of the technique of musio and knowledge of the resources of the orchestra. Yet someone one cannot help feeling that, beneath all this superficial enthusiasm, there is a sense that ‘lntermezzo’ registers another step in Strauss’s downward progress. One of the critics, more daring than his fellows, after very warm appreciation of the technical brilliance of the score, remarks that ‘in its inner intellectually creative, ethico-sesthetical values, briefly, in its artistic and human qualities,’ the new work is ‘almost as unpretentiously ingenuous, banal, and even insipid as whipped cream,’ and another critic already speaks of this ballet as ‘catastrophic.’ “Both in matter and form ‘lntermezzo’ is a new departure. To begin with, it is closely autobiographical, both in text and presentation. The book treats with almost literal fidejjty an incident in Strauss’s own life. During his absence from home his wife opened a letter addressed to him. It proved to bo from a lady and to indicate a high degree of intimacy. Frau Strauss at once wired to her husband that she had entered divorce proceedings. Ho received her telegram while innocently and unsuspectingly at a game of cards. ‘ The letter, however, was intended for a friend of Strauss who, for the purpose of amorous adventure, had borrowed the composer’s name and address. But Strauss has not satisfied himself merely with the adaptation of this incident. Ho has even tried to make all the characterisation true to life, so that there are people who claim to be able to put their real names to every one of the dramatis person®. It was this realisation that led to Strauss doing the book himself. The subject was originally entrusted to his constant Hugo von Hoffmansthal, but the poet failed to give a satisfactory portrait of Frau _ Strauss. Hermann Bahr, who was called in next, was equally unsuccessful. Finally, the composer tackled the job himself, and finished it in a week. And he has done the work with a piquant candour which is also novel in autobiographical work—or, at any rate, was so until recently. The realism of the characterisation has its counterpart in the externals of the presentation. Joseph Correck, the Dresden baritone, who sings the chief male nart, is got up to resemble Strauss as closely as possible, and features of the scenery have been borrowed from the composers house at Garmisch. There is a good deal of difference of opinion as to the propriety of these personalities. In form, tho work is also novel. It consists of fourteen scenes connected by symphonic entr’actes. The words are delivered in every graduation of utterance between ordinary unaccompanied speech and operatic lyric. For the most part tho text is given in what can best be described as recitative, the musical expression being left to the orchestra. This, as befits the lightness of the music, comprises only some 50 instrumentalists.’’ Like so many of the great artists, Kreisler does not encourage the modern composer. This foremost living violinist, who will tour Australia in the coming year, says: “Many of them are fine musicians—some have true genius—but they seem to me to be leading music into an uncharted wilderness.” The leaders of the new movements in music, also in painting and poetry, suggest the potter crouching over his wheel with a formless lump of clay before him, intent upon making shapes never imagined before, creating something that will make tho onlooker wonder or shudder. “Wo can only watch their experiments sympathetically, and see what comes of them. But it is to ho regretted that some men who can make real music are to-day contenting themselves with making noise.” In Vanity Fair, Kroisler expresses his views on the ultra-modern-ists. They have little use for melody and harmony and no use at all for euphony; they cast classic tradition into the ashbin of the past; the forms which to Bach were sufficient, to them mean nothing; they refuse to be imprisoned in tho old musical moulds. They invent their own scales, and call for new instruments to produce tho sounds they require. They seek to substitute dissonance for harmony, claiming that combinations hitherto regarded as ugly are beautiful and satisfying to tho ear, and much more signiefiant, when one has become accustomed to them. The recording of “Madame Butterfly” in English by H.M.V., on If records in an album, is a triumph (says a London reviewer). “I was thoroughly prejudiced before I began Jo play them through—a task of two hours and ton minutes that became a genuine delight. Tho recording is magnificent. I have never heard an operatic orchestra belter handled than this by Eugene Goossens. Rosina Ruokman sings enchantingly as Butterfly. Tudor Davies is, of course, always ludor Davies, and never for one moment Lieut. Pinkerton. I wonder if any opera singer that over lived was a worse actor. I doubt it. Ho is best in the great love duet. The splendid diction of Frederick Ranalow is invaluable for Sharpless. I hope that we shall get some more of those complete renderings in English.” Mr Hamilton Harty, the distinguished conductor of the Hallo Orchestra, is familiar to possessors of gramophones through his direction of many great works recorded for that instrument. lie has written “An Irish Symphony ” as an act of homage to the land of his birth. It was recently performed by the Halle Orchestra at Manchester—and it was only written this summer. It abounds in melody, and although following strictly formal lines- it is so tuneful as to ensure for it great popularity with average audiences. Musicians, it is reported, will find in the Symphony much to interest them. Mr Harty has utilised with great effect many old Irish melodies and dances. Possibly tho only way we in New Zealand are likely to hear this work will be through the gramophone, but of its recording for that purpose there is no mention. One of the most recent recordings of solos from grand opera is that of the singing of the prologue from “I Pagliacci” (Leoncavallo), by the Covent Garden star, Signor Cesare Formichi. The orchestral accompaniment is furnished under the direction of Mr Hamilton Harty. The famous solo is too well known to need introduction, but singers who attempt it may find great help from a study of this record. Those who have it not already in their gramophone library will be well advised to obtain it so as to hear how it is interpreted by an artist who stands high in the kingdom of grand opera to-day. It is sung in Italian. Bratza’s brilliant performance of Elgar’s “La C'apriceuse” is one of the many pleasing memories of the young violinist’s tour through Now Zealand. A well-nigh perfect record of the piece has been made and is recently to hand. It not only displays Bratza as a very fine technician, but reproduces all (Jig brilliancy inherent in tho composition itself and, indeed, its wit and humour. The dazzling technique conspicuous in tho “Polacaprice” for the violin (Op. 61), No. 4), of Thomas F. Dunhill, will be found on the reverse of tho Elgar gem. Known also as “Fleurissait une Rose,” that fine baritone solo “The Legend of the Sage Bush,” from “Le Jongleur do Notre Dame,” has just been superbly recorded from a singing by Cesare Formichi, of Covcnl Garden Grand Opera. It owes much for its fine effect as a notable aria to the splendid orchestral background directed by Mr Hamilton Harty. “Maudite a Jamais,” the grand baritone aria from “Siamson et Delilah,” is a reminder of what one seems in danger of forgetting, that that work has other beauties besides “Mon Coeur s’ouvre a Ta Voix.” Much depends upon the instrument and even upon the sound box. and possibly even after chat upon the needles, for the success of pianoforte solos. However, Mr William Murdoch’s playing of that great favourite piece with tho public, Chopin’s Valse in A flat records remarkably well. Mr Murdoch is a fine player with no tricks or nonsense about him, as those who heard him when he was in New Zealand can recall. He is quite at his best as a soloist in this intensely popular number ond ita companion, Valse in C sharp minor.