THE GRAMOPHONE

Southland Times, Issue 20012, 28 October 1926, Page 10

THE GRAMOPHONE

RECORDS OF THE RECORDINGS (By Vox PopulL) Quite the best recording of a string quartette to date in the opinion of Mr. Compton Mackenzie in the August Gramophone, is the Mozart Quartette in G, No. 19 (the Seronata Quartette). Then came the lovely Schubert Quartette in D Minor, played by the London String Quartette. (This is the “Death and the Maiden” Quartette.) Mackenzie congratulates the players on their triumph, and recalls that they were the pioneers of chamber music on the gramophone.

It is bad practice to alternate with fibre and steel needles on the same record. After a record has been played with steel, the fibre should be repointed several times during the first playing with fibre. At any time, a fibre should not be allowed to play on after it shows signs of “going.” A record preparation or lubricant defeats its purpose if it retains soft (or liquid) enough to retain grit or metal dust. One writer says he has tried a number of such preparations and remains unconvinced that any of them do any good.

I suppose (remarks a critic) no one has ever sung Neapolitan songs more artistically than Fernando de Lucia, whose voice, by the way, was discovered in much the same way as was Caruso’s. He has about half as much voice as Caruso, and has to contend with the scratch of fifteen years ago, but nothing is more moving than his “Tu sola,” his “Se chiagnere me siente,” and his “Lu cardillo.” “Voce e notte,” of de Curtis and Gambardella’s “Serenata a Surriento,” make another good record. All de Lucia’s records are worth more than their weight in gold, as examples of perfect taste and a perfect voice, which do not always go together. Another of the older records worth having is Giuseppe Anselmi singing “Uocchi niri” (dark eyes). He sings this most delightfully, and I am not sure that I do not prefer his rendering of “Marechiare” to that of de Lucia. The great baritone, Amato, sings “Chiarastella” and “Vola vola” of de Cristoforo with a wonderful mandolin accompaniment.

Nearly every gramophonist knows that Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata is a classic among its kind, but many may not have heard the issue of this beautiful work. Beethoven played it himself with a mulatto violinist collaborating, in Vienna in 1803, and found, it is recorded, exquisite pleasure in its personal interpretation. -To-day Catterall and Murdoch gave a modern rendering that does something to justify their high reputation as artistes of unusual skill. They play it, one believes, very much as Beethoven would have liked it played; its technicalities and moods form no obstacles and their work should delight amateur and professional listener alike. The Sonata consists of an introduction and three movements, and, although the reproduction has been cut in each movement (excepting that its introduction is given in its beautiful entirety), these records still give a very enjoyable performance of a fine work. Albert Coates is described as “an AngloRussian genius”. He made the great Wagnerian series and Beethoven’s ninth symphony possible, and gave the finest and most authoritative recordings of Russian music. His Strauss tone-poems are more energetic than authoritive, but I do not think (says a commentator) the alternative choices of Sir Landon Ronald or even Eugene Goossens could have • made thim any better: “Till Eulenspiegel” is the best, I think Goossens would have made Ravel’s “Mother Goose” more interesting, as he has a very keen appreciation of modern orchestral works. Why was Coates not given Tchaikowsky’s “Pathetique ?” He is the man who can get the last ounce out of this composer, as is proved in the “E Minor Symphony” and “Francesca de Rimini” records. Sir Landon Ronald’s version is good, but he should have had Mozart’s “Jupiter” symphony, which was done by Coates. Clearly, each conductor got his wrong symphony! An amusing article by Robert Haven Schauffler in Collier’s Weekly, is entitled “Where have I heard that tune before?” The theme is that “the jazz-hound is becoming highbrow” unconsciously, and the advice of the author is thus expressed:—lf you know any self-styled lowbrow who has grown sophisticated on jazz, and then grown sick of it, try an experiment on him. See whether his brow has not unconsciously acquired altitude while he slept. Try him out on the classics. Only do not get his back up by calling them that. Ask him if he likes this super-jazz that everybody is raving about. Then test his new harmonic sense on a good version of “Finlandia” by Sibelius. Only give it some snappy name like “Midnight on Broadway” by Gershwin. Try out his recently-acquired relish for counterpoint with the end of “Meistersinger” overture. But call it Irving Berlin’s “Jazz Millennium.” Tickle his new rhythmic sense with the scherzo of Beethoven’s sixth string quartette, labelling it “The Coral Gables Shudder.” Flatter his new zest in crisp instrumentation with the fourth movement of Tchaikowsky’s Fourth Symphony. Only call it Zez Confrey’s “Jazzody in Bright Yellow” on the theme “Everybody Works But Father.” If he enjoys these, break gently to him the secret of their real names. And if he rallies from the shock, put on a short piece of conventional negro jazz. Then, by contrast to his warmed-up music hash, with its stale bits of shopped tune, let him see if he is not ready for the pure delight of Schubert’s “Unfinished Symphony.”