The Piper And The Tune

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 66, 27 September 1940, Page 4

The Piper And The Tune

hdd ITHIN reasonable limits of dignity Y and decency,’ we said two or three weeks ago, "he who pays the piper still calls the tune." But some of our readers ignored the first half of that sentence and throw back the second half. Some readers, too, and some listeners will ignore the reasons for the programme changes announced in this issue and complain of the changes themselves. They will want no change, or more, or something totally different, and it is not in itself a bad thing to be discontented. But let us look at the facts. Broadcasting comes nearer to universality than any form of communication so far used by man. Therefore it gives more pleasure and more pain. Where a hundred people once attended a concert or saw a play ten thousand now listen to concerts and plays without leaving home, and say what they think about them. So every molehill of appreciation and criticism becomes a mountain. No one knows or can know how many people like symphonies, how many hate jazz, whether a thousand or twenty thousand are following a serial, what proportion of the population like music to dinner, how many would weep if Fred and Maggie died. Even if we did know the answers to such questions we would not know the meaning of the answers-for example, whether there should be a hundred hours of Sandy Powell to one of Alexander Kipnis if it could be established that a hundred to one is the numerical proportion of listeners. If culture depended on counts of heads it would soon cease on a national scale, since the number who wanted a university, say, or an art gallery would never be big enough to prevail against those who wanted swimming baths or a new bridge, or to provide such institutions themselves. There is a point beyond which the piper must not be driven, and most people know where it is. It is the point below which they try not to descend if they are parents and guardians. It lies, that is to say, a little above what they know to be their own natural level, and the same rule applies to broadcasting programmes. Whatever the practice of the public may be, their desire is to rise rather than to sink. This does not mean that programmes should cater only for highbrows, or primarily for highbrows, or for highbrows more than for lowbrows. It does mean that it is better to overrate than to under-rate the prevailing standards of intelligence and taste.