GRAMOPHONES

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 222, 8 December 1927, Page 16

GRAMOPHONES

Frederick Delius contributes nothing like the share that is his by right of talent and eminence, and yet the explanation seems simple. His efforts, says a critic, do not attract the ordinary ear. Not his the gentle art of improvising ingratiating tunes and fitting them with honied harmonies to verse with a fascinating lilt. Yet surely he might write more graceful songs as “Sweet Venevil,” charmingly sung by Leila Megane, H.M.V. E 430, 10 in.

Two good tenors are heard on a Columbia record (0683), “Rosie O’Ryan,” sung by Franklyn Baur, and “I’m Looking for a Girl Named Mary,” sung by Lewis James. Here are two good tenors on one record —one of them extraordinarily, though he sings a popular Irish ballad of the “latest hit” type. Franklyn Baur is the one I mean, and his voice bears a remarkable resemblance to that of the great Irish-American tenor, John McCormick. It has the same magnificent range and the same mellifluous ease of control. Both songs are worth hearing. A disc of much interest has preserved for stage devotees the voice of Miss Julia Neilson (Mrs. Fred Terry), who made her debut in 1888 as Cynisca in “Pygmalion and Galatea” at the London Lyceum, and subsequently gained many successes in Shakesperean roles. Miss Neilson played a leading part with her husband in their famous production “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” from which a scene has been recorded for H.M.V., El6O. Here the famous actress is associated with Fred Terry, A. Kendrick, and M. Cherry, all notable figures on the London stage of that period. Bracketed to this is a very fine rendition by Canon Fleming of “The Charge of the Light Brigade.”

A good children’s record is ‘The Doings of Dismal Desmond” (Columbia, 4225). Parents who like to share the joys of the gramophone with the kiddies will be glad to hear of this fine children’s record, which is, I understand, the first of a series. “Dismal Desmond,” familiar as a spotty Dalmatian in Toyland, takes the children into Fairyland, and the series will recount their adventures among the elves and pixies. The records promise to be very well done, a capital company headed by the well-known comedians Billie Grey and Charlie Penrose (of “Laughing Policeman” fame), undertaking the recital of Desmond’s adventures and misadventures.

Something exquisite approaching the divine seems to associate itself with the sweet, silver bell-like notes of the choir boy’s voice, and never was this better accentuated than in the record to be issued in New Zealand at the end of this month by the Gramophone Company. It reproduces the rendition of Mendelssohn’s most moving composition, “Hear My Prayer,” with the aria “Oh, For the Wings of a Dove,” by the choir of the Temple Church, London, with Mr. G. Thalben Bell at the organ, and Master Ernest Lough the soloist. Words fail to describe the remarkable beauty of the boy’s voice, with its sweet expression and fervent appeal, the gossamer delicacy of the organist’s touch producing fairy-like treble notes that balance so admirably with the boy’s beautifully modulated supplication, and the remarkable sympathy that is apparent between the choir and the soloist.

There was once an “Uncle Rex” (Rex Palmer, baritone), who vised to tell fairy stories in the children’s hour from 2LO, which is London, and whose “Good night, everybody!” used to thrill all the flappers in the United Kingdom. Now his very pleasant voice is devoted to making records for Columbia. Perhaps liis tone is getting a bit too dark, and he seems to be developing a tremolo, but otherwise he is most engaging. Would every singer choose his material as carefully! “To Anthea” is Hatton’s setting of Herrick s well-known poem, and on the other side White provides the music of “To Mary,” bv Shelley. Both are very well sung, and it makes a pleasing record. (3988.)

That serenity of tone, or the ability to maintain perfect evenness of tone, in melody or harmony, mechanically—i.e., not as the result of long practice, as in the case of the piano—together with the complete command of volume and colour, confer on the organ player a rich reward for his study, and to technical skill good musicianship adds that soul without which the best music is lifeless. These are finely demonstrated in the “Suite Gothique,” of Boelmann, which, for the first time, gave on the new type of machine an adequate idea of both organ and real pedal tone. This and subsequent H.M.V. records, by Goss-Custard, Dupre, Cunningham, and others, do actually convey the illusion of the listener being in the hall itself. Nor is volume of tone the criterion for appreciation, amazing as it is. Hear the. charming “Question and Answer’” of Wolstenholme (H.M.V.),, by GossCustard, and then say whether or not the organ tone is pleasing and faithful.

For the Wagnerite, a Columbia recording of the “Rienzi” overture i Wagner), in four parts, Bruno Walter conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, will be eagerly welcomed. Bruno Walter, whose earlier recording of the “Parsifal” music (also for Columbia) will be remembered, now offers a grand interpretation of the same composer’s Rienzi overture.. He shows the same qualities here that made his “Parsifal” records so outstanding, and which have stamped him as perhaps the best exponent of Wagner now living. Massiveness-, of effect, breadth of treatment, a superlative control of his large orchestra —all these points fit him to give us the first electric recording of this composition. “Rienzi” is, of course, one of Wagner’s early operas, and even though it does not show the tremendous powers of dynamic construction that ho developed later, it is a great piece of work, and fully deserves the complete recording now given it for the first time. It is one of Bruno Walter’s finest, the balance of tone being nicely preserved, and every combination of instruments being carefully considered in relation to the general effect. Arnold Bax has shown greater industry. perhaps, in the direction of songarranging than of song-writing, and his piano accompaniments, despite their exotic flavour of atonality, are always characteristic and interesting. His peculiar methods of treatment, says Herman Klein in “The Gromaphone,” are aptly exemplified in the “Three Irish Songs,” H.M.V. E4lO, lOin, sung by Anne Thursfield. They exhale a curious sweetness, particularly the “Cradle Song,” which is now better known in another setting, Herbert Hughes’s “Man From the Fields.” Mrs. Thursfield is an artist of infinite taste, and if these old songs are worth hearing at all, it is as much as anything for the delicacy and refinement of feeling and vocal charm that she puts into them.

On a Columbia (9192) “The Belle of New York” has been played by the band of H.M. Grenadier Guards. These old musical comedies seem to die very hard. Thirty years old, and still being revived and recorded! We seem to have lost the gift of writing catchy melodies since that day. This is a recording that will stir up many memories, for there must be very few of us, even among the comparatively young, who have not been charmed by the airy, lilting music that made “The Belle of New York” all the rage for so long and in so many countries. The Grenadier Guards play the selection with their usual sparkle and spirit, and even those to whom the music is not so familiar will find this a pleasant record.