21
MUSICAL COURIER
March 30, 1922
of the treasurer of the United States of America. To get them I must disregard in a measure my audience of the past years and create for myself a new audience from those people who love music only because it is melodious. I know very well what I am doing. I realize that I shall be called an iconoclast, a Bolshevik, a Red; but again I say that the green and yellow of the reward will not clash sufficiently with the red of the title to offend my artistic sensibilities. What is the use of trying to conceal my motives in this matter? I have garnered enough praise since my debut at the age of thirteen to last me for the rest of my lifetime. I can’t eat praise. I can’t pay the landlord with it. I want some financial reward for my years of work and training, and I intend to get it if possible. There are thousands of people in this country who love music, but who will not attend piano recitals because the programs that are usually played bore them to death. All right!
I intend to give them programs that will attract by the melody of the selections regardless of the name and standing of the composer. Beethoven, Bach, Brahms were wonderful masters. Admitted. Huxley, Spencer, Darwin were wonderful writers, but comparatively few read their work for entertainment I am not conceited enough to believe that simply because I play popular music that will make that music good; but I do believe I can play programs of tuneful music that is good and make it popular. Fully counting the cost of my undertaking in every way, the program I shall play on Sunday, April 9, at Carnegie Hall, is as follows: Part I—Weber’s ‘Invitation to the Dance,’ Mendelssohn’s ‘Spring Song,’ Brahms’ ‘Hungarian Dance,’ Beethoven’s minuet, Chopin’s ‘Military’ polonaise. Part II—Grieg’s ‘Butterfly’ and ‘Spring Song,’ Chaminade’s ‘Scarf Dance,’ Sinding’s ‘Rustle of Spring,’ Schubert’s ‘Moment Musicale,’ Liszt’s ‘Rigoletto’ paraphrase. Part III— Strauss-Schiitt’s ‘Wiener Wald,’ Rubinstein’s ‘Melo-die in F,’ Kreisler’s ‘Liebeslied,’ Paderewski’s minuet and Strauss’ ‘Blue Danube.’ ”
r K H
More power to Miss Schnitzer, the more so be-■ cause some other performers, like John Powell, Henry Souvaine, Messrs. Maier and Pattison, and Albert Spalding have performed idealized ragtime and jazz at concerts, John Carpenter has composed it, Mengelberg has led Strauss waltzes, and Harold Bauer put Albeniz’s “Tango” on his program.
H H H
That seems to be a “Stop-Watch on the Rhine,” so far as the Americans are concerned.
H H H
Little did we dream a few weeks ago, when we predicted the huge coming importance of radio music, that our prophecy was to be fulfilled so tragically soon. A Sunday newspaper in this town reports : “ ‘Radio bungalows’ have appeared in the real estate advertising columns. ‘Get away from the city, yet “listen in” on the world’s best music and lectures,’ reads the ad., which promises the installation of a complete radio outfit.”
H H H
During the trial of a lawsuit before Justice Was-servogel last week, a witness explained a certain relationship as follows: “His brother-in-law’s sister’s aunt’s niece is married to my brother-in-law.” If Mozart were alive he would have made a grand opera from that plot.
A fur coated individual with classical features walked into a country grocery store and announced that he wished to purchase old eggs.
“Old eggs?” asked the proprietor; “kinder unusual, ain’t it?”
“Never mind,” was the answer; “I repeat my request.”
The proprietor rummaged about and produced a box of the desired articles. “Here are a couple of dozen that were ordered a few weeks ago and never called for,” he said.
“Are you sure you have no other old eggs in the shop?”
“Certain.”
“Is there any other place in town where they would be likely to have old eggs?”
“This is the only store.”
“All right. I’ll take these.”
“Say,” ventured the puzzled proprietor, “maybe you’re going to that ‘Hamlet’ performance tonight at the opr’y house,”
“Sir,” and the speaker threw out his chest, “I am Hamlet.”	Leonard Libeling.
VARIATIONETTES
By the Editor־in-Chief
Canon William S. Chase, of Christ Church, Brooklyn, puts himself on record as a staunch advocate of the Duke Anti-Jazz Dance Bill, introduced at Albany, for the purpose of punishing persons who permit dancing to jazz music at public resorts. Another minister, Rev. John Handley, of Ocean City, N. J., declares that “our country is jazz mad and its deadly virus has infected schools, fraternities and even teachers. Hulbert Footner, one of our best book reviewers, points out that even book authors are beginning to write in jazz style: “By jazz, I mean in general the staccato note, incisive and averting at its best, flip and disgusting at its worst.” Mr. Footner qualifies, however: “If offhand, graceful and unforced, the jazz style achieves a certain note of distinction. ... One must not look for depth or sustained feeling in jazz, but one is never bored.” The pulpit is on hand again with the dictum of a Syracuse preacher (who wishes to remain anonymous) to the effect that “Jazz may be analyzed as a combination of nervousness, lawlessness, primitive and savage animalism and lasciviousness.” John Philip Sousa foretells the early decline and oblivion of jazz and says: “Jazz is great for the man or woman who doesn’t know how to dance.. It doesn’t require dancing to dance jazz. Take the dance away from the floor and jazz music wouldn’t last a week. The flat-footed, knock-kneed, pigeon-toed man, or the man or woman who hasn’t any rhythm or music in his soul is what keeps jazz music and jazz dancing before the public. Jazz is a dance made by and for the flat-footed man. When jazz is buried, and the funeral is not far distant, it will be buried so deep that God himself can’t find it then—and the flat-footed man and the unmusical souls will be the mourners at the grave.” A clipping from La Revue Mondiale (Paris) puts that serious publication in the position of conducting an organized campaign against American jazz (meanwhile the cable reports that nude male dancers are allowed to appear publicly in the French capital) and also that President Millerand and ex-President Deschanel have danced to jazz strains at various balls. Vice-Chancellor Farnell, of Oxford University, so a missive informs us, has put the ban on jazz as “a frightful distraction and temptation to students.” The muftis of Constantinople got together recently, so we are told, and put forth a fiat prohibiting Turkish women from swaying themselves to the jazz strains of the American infidels. Gaylord Yost, the composer, sends us a careful analysis and dignified denunciation of jazz and we shall publish his valuable screed elsewhere.
H H H
Sousa evidently agrees with the definition of the new slang word “sharpy,” which is this: “A fellow that dances so that if there wasn’t any music, he’d get oinched.”
H H H
Meanwhile, you ought to hear Mischa Levitzki improvise jazz on the piano. Really, it is too annoyingly appealing.
*i
A few weeks ago we printed in this column an invitation from our Sacramento correspondent to visit that city for the “49er” week commemorative of the gold craze days on the Pacific Coast. Now we are informed that all the men of Sacramento are letting their whiskers grow in order to be properly in the picture when the time comes. If the Sacramento celebrators are planning any music in connection with their observances, they could keep up the atmosphere splendidly by engaging Louis Graveure and George Barrere as their soloists.
In London, Charles B. Cochran, the revue producer, announced recently that newspaper critics who wish to attend his shows must pay for their seats. He says that, following theatrical custom, he has been giving to the press more than a hundred seats for each of his new productions, and invariably he has received bad notices. Mr. Cochran s plight is understandable, but not his method of remedying it. Now the London dramatic critics are likely to be angrier than ever.
H H H
“And as long as you are talking about reading appropriate books,” writes H. S. Rivers, Jr., why not recommend to the Italian opera singers in New York and Chicago that excellent and most instructive volume, ‘Graded Lessons in English for Italians,’ by the Rev. Angelo Di Domenica, and issued by the Christopher Publishing Company, Boston? It is nothing less than an insult to our public to see the Italian vocal contingent come over here year after year, take our money, and never make any serious attempt to learn our language. Do they expect us to study Italian in order to enjoy their highly informing and intellectual conversation? A friend of mine, who does understand Italian and is in the musical line, tells me that whenever two Italian singers come together the talk invariably is about food, cooking, and mutual lying about their successes and opera contracts.”
»? H «i
The patriotic note—in two senses of the word rings in the appended communication:
Editor Musical Courier, New York:
Dear Sir—Please let me thank you for the editorial concerning Geraldine Farrar’s departure from the Metropolitan.
It does not seem that the management is “playing the game” in regard to this wonderful artist.
Is it possible that some foreign woman just a bit dazzling has blinded the American sense for courtesy, if not fairness, to one of our very own great singers who has so long delighted the Metropolitan audiences ?
To let Gerry Farrar go so easily is not in keeping with that noble institution—the joy and pride of musical America —the Metropolitan Opera Company of New York City.
Sincerely yours,
Jessica Owen.
917 Locust Street, Kansas City, Mo.
H * H
The other day someone praised Lawrence Gilman’s program notes (Philharmonic Society) on Beethoven’s “Leonore” overture, and when the favorable comment reached the author’s ears he said: “It’s cheering to know that anyone reads and likes the things. Now I feel like applying myself with renewed zest to the task of serving as accoucheur for Leonore’s jail delivery.”
H H H
Beau Broadway in the Morning Telegraph: “A1 Jolson aspires to grand opera, it is said. I wonder if he would insist on doing it blackface.” Of course, with Otello and Amonasro as his favorite roles. Jolson is like the hero of the old time popular ditty who “sings a little tenor, sings a little baritone, and also sings the bass.”
Speaking of appropriate roles brings to mind some of the weird stories that are coming- out of Russia relative to artists resident there. We believe that there is much distress among them but we doubt that Mordkin was found starving in Tiflis.^ _ No doubt he is press agenting an early Anglo-Parisian-Ameri-can tour. Then the New \ork Times of last Sunday reports that Marie De Ribas, coloratura soprano of Odessa, “has contracted tuberculosis but frequently sings leading roles there.” Palpably a bid for engagements in “Traviata” and Boherne.
H H *׳»
H H H
Germaine Schnitzer, very well known and very gifted pianist, is out with a statement which she makes extremely amusing but which has an underlying basis of great seriousness. "I have decided upon a step,” she says, “which may draw down upon me much condemnation from those persons who have helped to bestow upon me the success so far achieved by me. I intend to be guilty of what the musical highbrows call ‘commercializing’ my art. I shall take that step at Carnegie Hall on Sunday afternoon, April 9. In other words, I am tired of playing the works of the great masters for the benefit of the comparatively few who understand those works. I am tired of having my sole reward consist of laudatory notices in black and white. I desire a few rewards in green and yellow, signed with the name
The Times, by the way, is a bit off in its musical mathematics. It reports—also from Odessa that the opera singers in that city receive salaries the best of which, 1,500,000 rubles monthly, will pay for only a pound and a half of bread daily. .	. . The
voice of M. Kanchan, well known as a tenor, has recently changed to baritone, due to nervousness growing out of lack of food. His salary is 15,000 rubles a day, the price of a half-pound of breach Evidently one-sixth of a pound of bread is being
grafted somewhere. b	H H H
Following recent Musical Courier editorials on the subject of jazz, we have been flooded with letters and clippings on the subject. We feel however, that there is nothing more to say even though we read all the communications with real interest.