MUSICAL COURIER
May 18, 1922
21
such situation, and as a help to him on his present travels we shall reprint the story herewith. It was entitled “The Point of View”:	:
The Point of -View.
(Scene: a Western city. Personages, a local musician, and Rene Devries, general representative of the Musical Courier. )
Local One—“I have a complaint to make,.against your correspondent here.”	55v. y
.Devries—“What is it?”	..... ...... 7
Local One—“She does not mention my name in her "fetters to your paper?”	׳ J ״-
Devries—"What do you do that you consider entitled to mention?”	..	,	:
Local One—“I am a teacher and my pupils give recitals. Sometimes I play at them myself.”.
Devries—“It seems to me that I have seen join• •name in the Musical Courier.”	'	..::::.DC
Local One—“Oh, yes. Your correspondent used to write about me when she first came here.”
Devries—“Are you a subscriber to our paper?”
Local One—“No.”	5 , ־
Devries—"How do you know you were written. about jn it?”	•"”
Local One—“Friends used to tell me and then I would buy the paper.”	.	.
Devries—“To read what was written about yourself?” Local One—“Yes.”
Devries—“And at other times you did not see the Musical Courier?”	.......
Local One—“No.”	_	.	j
Devries—“Therefore, if your friends were not on the watch to keep you posted about the mention of your name you never would buy the Musical Courier?”
Local One—"I suppose not.”
Devries—(Coughs).
Local One—“Do you think it ethical for your correspondent to leave me out of her letter altogether ?”.
Devries—"Certainly. She is so ethical that she brings about a distinct financial loss to the Musical Courier. Think of the revenue we would gain if she wrote about you every week, thereby leading you to purchase a copy of our paper each time.”	- •t
Local One—“I never looked at it that way. But look here, the Musical Courier mentions nearly every week persons in this city who are not nearly as important musically as I am, but they happen to be subscribers.
Devries—“How do you know they are mentioned nearly every week?”
Local One—“I—well—I—er—when ! don’t buy the Musical Courier I read it in the waiting room of my neighbor in the studio building.”
Dev ries— (Coughs ).
Local One—"Do you think I ought to be omitted from your paper ?”
Devries—“Do you subscribe to any music paper?” -Local One—"No. The others send me their paper for nothing. Why can’t the Musical Courier be sent to me for nothing?”
Devries (after coughing)—“We couldn’t afford that.” Local One—“If your correspondent doesn’t mention local people, what is she here for ?”
Devries—“She is here in order to be bombarded with circulars, news items, pupils’ programs and tickets for pupils’ concerts ■by individuals like you; she is here in order to use up pen, ink and paper writing about you; she is here to go out in all kinds of wind and weather, and to spend carfare, attending the performances of your pupils; she is here to employ her time and talent in writing about you; she is here to buy postage stamps in order to mail to New York what she has written about you. And do you know what the New York offices of the Musical Courier are for? They exist for the purpose of paying rent and receiving that notice about you, handing it to an editor whose time is paid for, who hands it to a copy boy whose time is paid for, who takes it to a distributor at the press whose time is paid for, who takes it to a lino-typer whose time is paid for (and he sets it up on a machine and with leaden type which is paid for), who gives the type to a boy whose time is paid for, who makes a proof of the matter and passes it to the proofreader whose time is paid for, and then carries the type to the man who puts it into forms whose time is paid for, who calls for a boy whose time is paid for, and there it is printed on white paper and with ink which is paid for, and then bound into pages by men whose time is paid for, and then corrected by editors whose time is paid for, and distributed all over the world by the postoffice which is paid”—
Local One—“Hold on. I see the point. I’m no blockhead. If all the musicians were to act as I did, and there would be no subscribers and no advertisers, there would be no music paper to write about us. On the other hand, if all of us subscribe we increase your circulation by that much and spread our own fame in corresponding degree.” Devries (too astonished to cough).
Local One—“Please put me down as a subscriber.” Devries—“I would prefer you to let your subscription go through our correspondent here. She gets a commission on the subscriptions from her city.”
Local One—“I’m glad to know that. I’ll see that others beside myself subscribe, too. I don't mind telling you the truth now. I used to buy the Musical Courier every week to look for mentions of my name and I know many others here who do ■the same thing. Of course if I knew that my name was to be mentioned in every issue I probably wouldn’t buy the paper at all after awhile.”
Devries—“Do these papers which are sent to you for nothing mention your name frequently?”
Local One—“Oh, yes, but I don’t especially value those mentions.”
Devries—“Why not?”
Local One (after deep thought)—“I imagine it must be because I don’t have to pay for these papers.”
Devries—“Thank you. I set out to teach you something, but instead I have learned much from you. Goodbye and good luck.”
*. *
Speaking of news, Leopold Auer is not to wed Muriel McCormick, R. E. Johnston is not engaged to Ganna Walska, Mathilda McCormick has not broken with Max Oser in order to marry Glazounow,
VARIATIONETTES
By the Editor-in-Chief
destroyed may possibly go back to Brahms for their beginning.
m *t H
While it is true that music has not stood still since the death of Brahms, but has widened its scope and technic of expression, at the same time nothing or no one has proved that the sublime Johannes “undoubtedly was wrong in the hard and fast observance of his principles.” The great classics of art have a way of remaining great in spite of the minor evolutionary changes and the modish aberrations that each new decade or so brings with it. Brahms was no more wrong and seems no more wrong now, than Raphael or Da Vinci were or are wrong because of Burne Jones and Rodin, or than Milton or Dante erred and must be so regarded because it is no longer the fashion to write lengthy romantic poems or philosophical epics. The C minor symphony of Brahms and many of his songs and piano pieces seem to grow more profound and beautiful at each hearing.
* * *
The Guardian writer’s severity extends also to Gounod whom he hangs, draws, and quarters without mercy:
“Gounod’s music is best enjoyed taken mainly as excellent cafe music. Yet there are signs that he tackled his theme seriously at the outset; the first few bars of the overture really do hint of Faust in solitude. Then comes the air of 'Even bravest hearts’ and the collapse into the smugly sentimental. This is another of the operas which are to be the more enjoyed the more humorously we take them.”
H »1	»5
Through an inadvertence—not to say awful oversight—we forgot to publish notices of the Gigli and Godowsky concerts which we attended week before last, and we regret the omission more than we can say' for keen artistic enjoyment was ours on both occasions, and justice to the two great artists demanded at least some record of the impressions received. It is too late now for detailed reviewing, but at least it should be said that Gigli made a pronounced success not so much because of his lovely voice, which was a matter of general knowledge, but chiefly because of his musically finished and finely felt interpretations, which were a matter of general surprise, for opera singers do not as a rule shine in that regard when they make a debut on the concert stage. Gigli is a student and important things may be expected from him in the future in the realm of uncostumed song; in grand opera he is doing them already.
*t *t *t
Godowsky remains a prodigious pianist, mentally, musically, technically. In many respects he is inimitable, and one of them is, the admission to that effect of all the other renowned pianists. He was at the top of his form in his recent Carnegie Hall recital, and his unfailing fingers and masterful mind combined to give the piano connoisseurs an unqualified treat. Whether in Beethoven, Chopin, Brahms, or the wonderfully attractive Godowsky arrangements of the old French classics and Strauss’ waltz, the wizard player was equally at home and left no opening for criticism. He is a towering figure in the keyboard world. His new contrapuntal and “symphonic” version of the Weber “Invitation to the Waltz,” for two pianos and the accompaniment of a third, was a tour de force in constructional complexity, finger difficulty, and piquant rhythmic effects. He was partnered most ably and brilliantly by Messrs. Maier and Pattison, ensemble players extraordinary.
*?*?*?
On board the France last week, Europe bound, were Rene Devries, Gatti-Casazza, Muratore, De Luca, Moranzoni, Rosina Galli, Bamboschek, Cava-lien, Fremstad, Calvé, Walter Damrosch. We asked Mr. Devries to wireless to the Musical Courier any exclusive news he might pick up en route. One day after the departure of the France we received the following: “Confused whether things I am hearing are told me in the hope that I might publish them or in the fear that I might not publish them. Please advise. Devries.” After twenty-four hours more, another message came through the ether, as follows: “Cannot send any more reports as wireless operator says hot air aboard interfering too seriously with wireless transmission. Devries.” r. r. r
The path of the man on the musical journal never is a smooth one when he falls into a musical company. We remember that several years ago we published an account of how Mr. Devries handled one
M. B. H. was the first to arrive with his contribution this week and it is to this effect : “They report that Mt. Etna is in eruption again. Wrong. That is only the smoke clearing away after the recent Jeritza-Farrar explosion.”
*t H H
The second envelope we opened brought “Eager's” question: “I notice that Buffalo has a Loud Music Company. Could you tell me a shop that specializes on soft music?”
*, r *.
The present radio vogue recalls a prophecy made in this column August 12, 1915, and our comment thereupon:
From the Philadelphia Public Ledger: A visiting scientist informs a Philadelphia audience that perfected phonetic apparatus will in a few years “enable the musical critic to judge an opera or a concert intelligently without leaving his own fireside.” We ought to get out an injunction before the inventor of the perfected phonetic apparatus succeeds in putting his idea into marketable shape, for we claim to be the originator of the system of criticising concerts without leaving our fireside. We always have held that the best way to review a concert or an opera is not to go to it, for the moment one hears the music, one becomes influenced for or against the product and cannot write an impartial notice of it.
Seated at his own fireside, away from the performance and in ignorance of what is actually taking place there, the critic is able to keep his mind clear, his judgment free, and his slippers on his feet. That phonetic contrivance would be not only a nuisance, but also a reversion to the old fashioned style of criticism which requires a critic to listen to what he is criticising or at least to be acquainted, even if casually, with the music under discussion. We write our best criticism after merely glancing at a program, and telephoning to the janitor of the concert hall or opera house to find out whether the performance took place exactly as announced. We critics all know what and whom we like and what and whom we do not like. Why, then, go to concerts or opera in order to write them up or down? Imagine the tragedy of having to listen to something good composed or performed by some one the critic does not like? The mere thought is horrible. Our slippers, please, Mary.
K «! H
After all, however, the original inventor of radio music was the ancient who spoke of “the music of the spheres.” Pythagoras, mayhap?
*t *t
A correspondent, referring to our belief that when Mary Garden does “Salome” the piece should be called “Arms and the Man,” quotes what George Fitch wrote in “Grand Opera,” one of his famous “Vest Pocket Essays”:
An opera singer must be able to accompany herself with her arms. The prima donna who cannot wigwag with her arms messages readily translatable as delight, despair, hate, envy, indifference, suspicion, triumph, a pain in the chest, disgust with the administration, would not draw half a salary.
*5	*>	*t,
We looked up the essay in question and found in it also this: “Grand opera is any musical play in which the leading character dies in the last act. This is necessary.”
* «?, »!,
Never let arguments or even quarrels between tonal enthusiasts, surprise you. It was the late Bert Leston Taylor who said long ago: “True music lovers always are disputatious.”
*, •s *t
Something we have known for a long time so far as music is concerned, just strikes Baird Leonard from another no less important angle, and she writes about it in the Morning Telegraph of May 9:
It seems to me that city and night editors have a twisted sense of news values. They will tell you on the front pages of their journals that an eighty-eight year old man beat his grandchildren in a race or that one of the home team twirlers pitched a no-hit game, but they will let the publication of a new poem by Thomas Hardy slip by unheralded. If the man who edits the Tribune’s “Verse of a Week” column hadn’t reprinted it, I might not have known for some time about Mr. Hardy’s “An Ancient to Ancients” in The Century.
K * *i
Discussing Brahms and the quarter century since his death (1897-1922) the Manchester (England) Guardian has the following to say:
It is twenty-five years this month since the death of Brahms. During that quarter of a century music has moved almost entirely in the opposite direction to his principles and ideals. Yet, though it would now generally be held that in the hard and fast observance of his principles he was undoubtedly wrong, his reputation has suffered little by this current faith. Brahms remains, and his principles remain, too, stubbornly alive in his Work—a standing reproof to all our modern ways. Further, they seem likely to remain until the art of music finds its way out of the machine tempered system which is its modern prison. Those who build up the art refresh after this prison is