THE GRAMOPHONE

Southland Times, Issue 20229, 14 July 1927, Page 11

THE GRAMOPHONE

RECORDS OF THE RECORDINGS. (By “Vox Populi.”) Here is a batch of Columbias of unusual interest received from Dickey’s Ltd., and I direct your attention to them first, because they are made in Australia. These are not merely Australian pressings; they are Australian recordings and they reproduce the work of artists in Australia. Judged by the highest standards are they wholly satisfactory? The answer is that they are not, but the defects are not irremediable and compared with the records of the cheaper classes made in England they can be viewed with favour without any strain being put on one’s conscience. One fault noticeable in them all is the poor tone of the pianoforte, due I think to the instrument rather than to the recording, because the vocal records in the main are satisfactory from the viewpoint of tone. I think they are a little rougher than the English Columbias, but then we know that the Columbias turned out at headquarters are velvet smooth. These are the first All Australia records I have heard but I cannot say whether or not they are the first recordings, because unfortunately I hear so few Columbias nowadays. This lack is not due to any weakness in desire, but to circumstances which do not make for the proper exploitation of this market for records under the Columbia brand. Getting down to details let me first refer to the pianoforte solos by Don Zelaya (02502). This is a twelve-inch disc and it reveals a pianist of marked agility and power, who produces a big tone, though it lacks quality. The fault is largely the instrument’s. Don Zelaya plays Liszt’s difficult Tarantella and follows it with his own “Waltz Marguerite,” a valse de concert which betrays the influence of Chopin. It is attractive and gives the pianist ample scope for fireworks. Gladys Verona sings Scott’s “Lullaby” but she is a bit too stiff for it, and in Clutsam’s ’“My Curly-headed Babby” she introduces variations in the rhythm which are most disconcerting. It is a pleasing soprano voice, without being distinguished (0619). Elsa Stralia is rather too heavy for Maxim Brodi in these duets “O Lovely Night.” and ‘‘l Love the Moon.” Her voice comes through with striking clarity in these numbers (0614) and in her solos “That Night of Love” and “Just for a While” (0613). These are works of the popular order, and the soprano sings them effectively, but one wishes she would take up material in keeping with her status as an artist. “That Night of Love” is the better of the pair and will be sought after I think.

A thing noticeable in these Australian Columbias is the revival of some veteran

songs. Walter Kirby, the tenor, for instance gives us “Beu Bolt,” the song made popular by “Trilby,” and “A Hundred Moonlit Miles Away” (0605). Kirby is an experienced concert platform singer and he handles both songs effectively. Robert L. Harper, another tenor, is not smooth enough for

‘Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes” (0583) and with it we have the old “Queen of My Heart” by Cellier. Another old song is given by David Craven who sings “The Bedouin’s Love Song” and “Sometimes at Dawn” by Haydn Wood (0617). He has a pleasing baritone voice and does extremely well in Pinsuti’s work. William Perryman takes us back to Trotere singing “I did not know” (0615) and on this same disc he does “Adoration.” Two very good numbers. Adele Crane, who has a very attractive voice, sings excellently “Synnove’s Song” from Kjerulf’s settings and also “It is only a tiny garden” (0620). The Kjerulf is particularly well done and is one of the best of the records of this series. Then we have Reginald Dandy in “Maire, my Girl” and “Mother, O my Mother,” two well-known songs (0600).

I am taken back years by the record of “My dear Soul” by Eileen Boyd. I can recall her when she was a child with a wonderfully powerful voice on the vaudeville stage. The tremendous volume of that childish contralto used to leave the audience gasping with astonishment, and there was no hint of any forcing. Now she is here making records, and evidently still possesses a contralto of unusual power. In “My dear Soul,” a rather sickly thing, the octave drop at the finale is disturbing and therefore unfortunate, though it does show up her splendid lower register. Miss Boyd's voice is full of quality and if she takes up the better songs she should be able to establish herself with the gramophone audiences as a contralto worthy of comparison with Clara Butt. That is not an extragavant suggestion. On the other side of this record is Brahe’s “I passed by your window,” but I really think this window should be closed and that no one else should pass it (0599). Jack O’Hagan sings, while Gil Dich plays the accompaniments, “Sweet Hawaiian Sands” and “That’s why I love you” (0570). Compare this record with those of the same class being issued from the Old Country and I think you will agree that Mr O’Hagan comes out of the contest with credit.

“Gimme a little kiss” and “It’s time to keep away from you” (0609) are sung by the comedienne Kitty Elliott. Then we come to the Big Four, well-known in vaudeville in New Zealand and Australia. They sing “Thanks for the Buggy Ride” rather too ponderously and “Sarah Alone” (0551). There are fine voices here, accurate singing and splendid quality, but the treatment of these fox-trot songs is too stodgy to get them across in the face of the work done by the various teams makings records just now. Gil Dich produces a good tone in his pianoforte solos, which are characterised by some flexible fingering. He does “I’d climb the highest mountain” and “Lay my head beneath a rose,” and both are pleasing (0569).

Corporal Phillips, who performs in public under the name of linito, gives a number of “Australian Bird Calls” (0608). Although he includes such feathered songsters as the canary, the rooster and the hen, there are many native birds included, enough to make this record extremely valuable. Probably some day we shall hear a record of a genuine New Zealand Bell-bird, so that other than New Zealanders can hear its silver tones. The nightingale has been recorded, so that the capture of the Bellbird’s note is not an impossibility. Corporal Phillips’s imitations are the best I have heard, though his hen and chickens is open to the criticism that a hen with chickens does not use all the “notes” he produces. His imitation of the kookaburra is alarmingly life like, and the sweet song of the lark seems to come from the skies. I recommend this record with enthusiasm.

The Regal records accompanying these Columbias from Dickey’s Ltd. were also made in Australia. That is why we have Norman Leavy singing “O, Sydney, I love you” and “Rosemary for Remembrance” (G 20018). Fred Douglas is heard in “For my Sweetheart” and “Just a bird’s eye view” (G 8784 Leslie Elliott in a particularly racy song “Really, one never knows” puts up a first-class performance. She is a distinguished singer and in this as well as “I shall say to him” she is worthy of attention (G 20022). Vance Courtney is very good in “When I was one year old” and “The silver in my mother’s hair” (G 20019), but I much prefer Alex Whitson in “Song of the Sea” and “Why Shouldn’t I” (G 20021). There remains as the last of these Australian Regals, the recording, which is very good, by Major Hunter on the Hawaiian guitar playing “Honolulu March” and “Sweet Hawaiian Sands” (G 20020

Mr G. W. Dillnut, of the H.M.V. recording department, has set down some interesting impressions of his recordings of Mussolini. Whatever folk may think of Mussolini—and it is hard to find any unanimity on the subject—everybody must credit him with a wonderful personality (he says). It is a personality surpassed by few characters in history; and I can be excused something like a thrill on receiving the following telegram recently:—“Mussolini wishes to record a message to Italians in America. Leave immediately for Rome with full equipment.” On my arrival in Rome a messenger advised me that the recording would be carried out in the beautiful Chigi Palace, from which II Duce controls the-

destinies of Italy. As soon as our preliminary arrangements had been completed, Mussolini himself entered the room—seriously as though still occupied with the interview from which he had been summoned. He was brusque, as might be expected in one with such multifarious obligations, and his face seemed unrelaxing; but any impression of sternness was relieved by a charm of manner which won my men over immediately. I had heard that Mussolini would tolerate no waste of time; and this characteristic showed itself the moment he came before the instrument. “Ready?” he asked. “Yes, your Excellency.” Without another word of conversation he began his speech—a speech that would travel in permanent form to every part of the habitated earth, and be heard in future years as far distant from the present as are the days of Napoleon, Cromwell and even Julius Caesar. It was spoken from his heart- to his countrymen abroad—feelingly and with undoubted sincerity, though with none of that fiery exaltation which marked his oratory in the Colosseum. “All right?” he asked, at the end. “A very good record, I believe.” He made some remark which defeated my Italian, and withdrew—without any flunkey business on the part of his staff.