Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-01-18
-ASks Richard C0MueX


Beginners Band Book) than you would believe
possible
Bad boys of the neighborhood- 1 was
Une-would steal beneath his window and when
Albert rested between rounds, they would
Hey, Albert, give that calf more rope!"
shout:
This never failed to bring the artist boiling n
out Of his studio, hurt and irate, and his from
bone bore more than one dent made by beinG
applied vigorously to the persons of his fleeing
annoyers
His reward, his day Of glory. came on the
Fourth of July when he and his mates gave q |
concert In the base bali park, very natty in
white duck pants and scarlet coats with caps
to match Before an enraptured populace the
band blew and thumped the everlasting stuff
ings out Of the Beginners Band Book. It may
not have been the apex of art. but it was fun.
Once the leader gave the signal 1t was a case
of every man for himself
Bets were freely laid before each selection
as TO which instrument would finish first The
clarinet usually won. But he cheated To
make better time he cut corners, played two
notes al once and even skipped a bar here
and there. Poor ethical Albert never finished
better than third. We consoled him by telling
him that If he did not play fast as some
Of the others he certainly played louder than
any Of them.
FLUSHED WIN triumph, the band would
swagger about the streets in their uniforms
after the concert, and it was deemed NO small
honor to be permitted to buy one Of them q
chocolate nut sundae or q banana split Next
morning, punctually at g. Albert resumed his
attack on the Ripping Water Gavotte"
By easy stages we have reached one of the
more important points of this paper, namely,
the decline of homemade music. Homemade
music is like home cooking in this respect: It
ID tR0kN Nv pl4R 4@aI-
dishes served TO you in restaurants, but some
how you enjoy it more-part Of the time any
how.
Today America has more music than ever
before, and in another sense it has less music.
Though not yet q greybeard, I can bark back
to the time when the piano in the parlor-an
right, living room, If you insist-was actually
played on. 1t was something alive in those
days, not just piece of furniture which came
I'm handy for filling IN the space between
the rosewood monograph and the teak radio
cabinet.
1 can remember when the streets of every
town were filled each day with small boys and
girls newly washed and more or less resentful,
each toting an imitation alligator-skin music
roll. More than one torrid base ball game in
which took part was broken up-in the ninth
inning with the score a te,, too-because
"Brickie" Brown, who owned the only bat, was
called home in stern tones by his mother to
practice finger exercises. AS you went down
any leS1OenUal SGIeeL III I1OSe Gays L0er6 came
20 your ears the tck-tock Of the metTonome
and the tinkle Of sharps and fats, as countless
small clumsy fingers did their best with The
Happy Farmer"
1t was q great day in many homes when
Susie was promoted from 1.-THE Happy Farmer"
to "Narcissus." Ultimately she might attain to
1.-THE Burning of Rome or even the William
Tell Overture" How many SuSies taking
music lessons today? Not knowing, can't say.
But I venture the guess that most modern
SusieS, when they yearn for music, either stTum
out something ON their IKE about a red-headed
mamma, else push button and listen TO
some porpoise with voice like cheap perfume
whimper out soulful invitation to meet him
In the moonlight, the acceptance of which I
confdentially would not advise. .
Let us look this issue squarely in the loud
speaker: Are we lusty pioneers TO become
race of button-pushers? Maybe. Will II be
a bad thing if we do? Well, you have me
there.
This as some lynx-eyed observer has pointed
out, is a mechanical age. Now. mind you, I
am all for making life easier. I believe firmly
in the self winding watch, the self milking
COW, the self-answering telephone, the non-skld
watermelon, the automatic toothbrush, and
any device which viii save labor, especially
mine. There are many things which I'd be glad
to have somebody else do for me- But want
to do my own Singing-or some of it, anyhow.
We must be on our guard, We lovers of home
made music, be it ever so terrible The day Is
not far of when we shall be able to lie in our
own little white beds and gaze up at the cell
ing, on which Sight-cnd-sound waves will por-
tray the news of the day, including, Of course.
all the battleship launchings and statue unveil-
tngs. II we wish it, there win flicker across
our wallpaper the latest stirring drama, with
theme song, about the clown who went on with
his comic act although his heart was breaking,
or about the estTanged couple reunited by the
prattle Of little feet. And we can and listen
to every sort Of musical performer, even the