The Modern Orchestra Leader

1895

The modern orchestra has been converted into a great, composite musical instrument, on which the conductor actually plays, and the specific skill he has developed of playing on this ideal instrument is an exact counterpart of what we call virtuosity in the individual performer. A generation of "virtuosi of the orchestra" has sprung up, exercising the same fascination over the great crowd of music lovers that other virtuosi have time out of mind.

The orchestral conductor is fast becoming the cynosure in the musical firmament, with the pole star of safety or shipwreck beaming at his baton's tip. Lightly warbling soprani, tenors storming the Jericho of the people's heart with "miraculous sound," and sonorous basses of Bashan will have to look to their laurels. Some fine day they may find them encircling the conductor's Olympian brow.

In a word, the modern conductor is essentially a performer, and whether he be a popular favorite by reason of his virtuosity or of the scope modern musical performance gives to the artistic initiative of all performers, his virtuosity per se is unquestionably the element by which he most gains his ascendancy over the public. — Scribner's Magazine.

Stage Signals

1901

There are a number of ways of giving the signal which warns the leader of the theater orchestra that the curtain is about to rise. The most common in American theaters is the illumination by electricity of a common incandescent bulb placed in front of the conductor. Many players, however, follow the English custom of having the ring of a bell as a signal. This has the advantage of giving notice alike to the players behind the curtain and the orchestra and the audience in front.

The French players employ the system, but not the bells. A stout club rapped loudly on the stage floor does duty instead. Two raps constitute the one minute signal and three as the final notice. The reason for the cumbersome method is that of precedent, for the call is that of the Theatre Francais. — Chicago Tribune.

Movie Theater Orchestras Developing Taste for Classical Music

1926

GOOD MUSIC IS MORE POPULAR

MOVIE THEATER ORCHESTRAS HAVE TENDED TO DEVELOP TASTE FOR BETTER CLASS OF MUSIC

Chicago. — Disguised as hand maiden of the cinema, classical music is becoming popular.

Popular, "that is, compared with the classical taste in this country ten years ago. In Chicago, the change is perceptible in all the larger picture houses. One company for instance, which operates six of the largest houses, has announced it has already spent more for music this year than for pictures.

Boon For Good Music

Adolphe Dumont, former Chicago grand opera conductor now directing music in one of the theatres, evaluated this changing public taste as a boon not only for good music but also for good musicians. His own orchestra, he said, has just been increased to more than fifty pieces.

"More grand opera music is played in the large motion picture houses each day," he said, "than played by grand opera orchestras in week. We play grand opera four times a day, week days, and five times Sunday. The grand opera orchestras and Symphony orchestras hardly ever play a program more than three times a week.

Opera Interprets Emotions

"A public demand for more and better music has been recognized. Eight years of patient work, interpreting the emotions of the movies, as only grand opera music can do, created the demand.

"Day after day, showing sometimes slapstick comedy to the tune of the Ride of the Valkyries; love scenes to strains from Tristran and Isolde and Charlie Chaplin's antics to Debussy's 'Girl of the Flaxen Hair,' the moving picture orchestras have given audiences a taste for classical music that many of them would have formerly disavowed. Great music consequently has found a new significance, and importance. It gives motion pictures dramatic intensity."

—Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune, Wisconsin Rapids, WI, Aug. 12, 1926, p. 12.

The Orchestra Watches the Temperature

1915

Orchestra Tuning Explained.

Doubtless many theater goers have wondered why it is a practice of orchestra musicians to make their appearance so far ahead of the time of beginning the performance and sit in their seats with nothing to do. Then, at a seeming given signal, all hands begin to "tune up," torturing the ears of the early arrivals with a series of squeaks and scrapes. The mystery was explained by an orchestra leader the other day. "The instruments have to be in accord with the temperature of the house," said he. "There may be several degrees difference between the temperature of the music room below stage and the house itself. If we tuned our violins downstairs they would all be flat when we take our places in the orchestra. For that reason we come upstairs earlier and let our instruments get the house atmosphere before the actual tuning begins." — New York Press.


A Small Horror.

The weasel is one small horror. Astonishingly strong, apparently fearless and as persevering as an ant, when once he has settled to the track of a rabbit that particular bunny is indeed in grave peril. The rabbit seems to know it too, and the knowledge to half paralyze him, for he seldom attempts the one saving chance — a straightaway, long sustained run at top speed. And the end of the patient, if-we-do-but-wait-the-hour sort of pursuit! 'Tis indeed bloody murder. The fiend within angel garb finally toils within deadly distance. There is a snakelike stroke, most likely aimed at the big vein near the butt of the rabbit's ear. Once there, the brute sticks leechlike to the blood sucking, while the trembling, wailing rabbit totters aimlessly about till its drained body falls limply to pay its tax to mother earth.—Edwin Sandys in Outing Magazine.