HINTS TO CONDUCTORS.

There are still bands who will persist in dishing up the old fashioned operatic selections from dead, dying, or senile scores, such selections consisting of a series of the principal tunes strung together with pieces of string in the shape of piccolo, clarinet, or cornet and euphonium cadenzas which are practically of no interest to the ordinary promenading public of to-day. For there is always a certain minority who want to heat what they designate “a bit of good music.” This means, as a rule, something short from the classics or one of the thousands of so-called “standard pieces,” such as Mascagni’s “Intermezzo,” Offenbach’s “Barcarolle,” or Handel’s “Largo.” And, apropos the latter, what is generally termed amongst bands a “slow melody” is usually popular with everyone. Such pieces certainly give a certain amount of tone to a programme of the very lively order, and when collating such programmes one has, to be fair, to reserve a little corner for the select minority, although, naturally, it is the entertainment of the masses which counts. I repeat entertainment – not education. I hold very strong views on that subject, and maintain that it is a waste of time and money to attempt to educate a great mass of people who have collected in the open air for the definite purpose of listening to music as a recreation and enjoyment. Their minds, without any discrimination as to class, are not in a state of receptivity. They do not wish to be assailed by a musical problem or an exercise in musical classic form.

We have all come across at one time or another those curious people who go to concerts or the opera for any reason but the music. I shall never forget a little experience I had some years ago in South Africa when conducting the performance of an opera. As soon as I had taken my stand at the conductor’s desk my eyes were momentarily dazzled by what appeared to be two small jewellers’ shop windows reposing upon the somewhat ample proportions of two spreading damsels in the front row of the stalls. As the performance proceeded so did their conversation, rising and falling with the crescendos and decrescendos of the music, much to my distraction. But a sudden and unexpected pause in the music and a stage silence caught them out beautifully, and this is what I heard in audible and somewhat disgusted tones: “You know, I always thought I liked opera, but there seems to be so much singing in this one!” Another experience, with a slight pathos about it, occurred in my student days. I was in the gallery of the Court Theatre awaiting a performance of the “Hippolytus” of Euripides. My nose was suddenly assailed by a strong smell of oranges. I observed sitting directly in front of me two young costers of an obviously amorous inclination. I was naturally curious as to the attraction of Euripides for the young couple. They were behaving “nice and quiet,” but every now and again I caught “Nah, then, ’ere ’e comes.” Then as a different character entered, “Naow, it ain’t,” in disappointed tones. They survived the first act. but in the interval I heard them asking one of the attendants the name of the comedian, and when he was likely to come on! They had evidently drifted in, thinking to see a popular musical comedy, and wore anxiously awaiting the appearance of the “funny man.”