The Observer from London, Greater London, England • 14

14 THE OBSERVER, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1936. 32tu5lc anb 3Ztuslclans. THlms of tye Week (BY C. A. LEJEUNE.) ANDRlt MASSON.

AIR. CONCERTS OF THE WEEK. SATURDAY, ilnd FEB. ONWARD FOUR SHOWS DAILY at 11.30 1 2.30 6.40 and 9.10 ALL SEATS BOOKABLE 3s. 6d.

Bs 6d. flitn 7 CONCERTS. BLUNDER ON LEFT. THE Mr. Chaplin's new film, "Modern Times," now on view at the Tivoll, was, we are told; written by Charlie Chaplin, directed by Charlie Chaplin, music by Charlie Chaplin, edited by Charlie Chaplin, produced by Charlie Chaplin, and starring Charlie Chaplin." We can readily believe it.

We should not be surprised to learn that the players were made up by Charlie Chaplin, the sets constructed by Charlie Chaplin, and the custard pies compounded by Charlie Chaplin, so completely does the picture bear the stamp of one dominating and curiously life-scarred mind. Chaplin, who used to shoot his come dies on the cuff in six weeks, has taken two and a half years over the present picture, and one may believe that it represents him absolutely. It reveals, as such a longish endeavour should, more than any of his earlier films, the man behind the pantomimist. It is not un-symbolic that Chaplin allows himself, for the first time, to mouth his words so that a lip-reader could follow them, that he smiles at the orphan girl no longer like a clown, but like a lover, and that his last bit of byplay In the film includes a sensible and quite strong-minded admonition to the girl to buck up and face life cheerfully. The mask of the' little man has fallen.

Charlie, the clown, has been dispossessed by Chaplin, the democratic capitalist. For the first time in his career he is demonstrably less interested In his precision of statement than in the content of the thing he has to say. Charlie has made, deliberately, a picture of beliefs. They are, I am afraid. rather chaotic beliefs, their thesis a bit ill-digested, their facts a bit muddled, but they are, so far as they go, unquestion ably honest; more tnan that, they are emotionally symptomatic, and they stand for something in Chaplin's make-up that is just as fundamental as the cut-away coat, the bowler, and the now bravely sable little moustache.

Chaplin, who comes from the people, and has now plenty of time and money to think about the people, has taken the people's cause emphatically and deliber ately In hand. He believes, with all the fervour of a man who can contemplate it In leisure, in the sovereignty of the indi vidual; in the chance to work, the peace to live, and the essential independence of the spirit. He is in arms against regi ment, and it is one of the little ironies that have evaded him that he would be, in practice, just as fierce an opponent of the Communist policy he endorses as of the Fascist authority he deplores. All his life Chaplin has worked, not on intellect, but on instinct, and it Is Instinct that has been both his strength and his weakness, when instinct tells him what to do, it guides him admirably. When it tells him why to do it, it lacks any kind of educative grounding.

Modern Times Is one long why. It would no doubt be kinder to Chaplin as the craftsman, but it would certainly be less respectful to Chaplin as the man, to discuss Modern Times on the basis of the number of laughs it gives the public. Much of the picture is incredibly funny none the less funny because the gags are frequently resuscitated and modernised from earlier comedies. The gallant dive into eighteen inches of water, for example, the accidental launching of a half -built liner, the deliberate knocking down of chairs to trip the police officers, the tragic oasis of the waiter's tray drifting above the sea of dancers these are all Chaplin gags of the first order, and I challenge any audience in the world to resist laughing at them. But what I find mostly missing from Modern Times is the old Chaplin spirit that used to create comedy without gags the little workman who shattered the world with nothing but a lily, the ardent pilgrim who hit the bullseye of laughter with David's imagined sling.

Chaplin in Modern Times must resort to a Heath Robinson gag-machine to produce laughter. His own heart and genius is turned quite deliberately to the creation of wrath. His thesis, coldly assessed, is that the modern world is not fit for a man to live in, but that it's a man job to try. His wrath is chiefly directed against mech anisation, capitalism, strike-breakers, welfare officers, and fate, and for the first time his satire has a bitter edge. His little tramp is driven insane by the routine of the factory driving-belt.

His girl Is a child of the unemployed, her broken-hearted father shot down by the police. His solution is a country road at dawn, with the birds singing. But even there the white traffic line divides the right from the left'. "Modern Times Is an angry picture, a warm-hearted and quixotic tilting at the mills. Not the least significant thing about it is the fact that it sticks so belligerently to the old and outmoded silent technique.

The photography and gesture have the deliberately exaggerated angularity of early slapstick. The sub-titles, One Week Later," Alone and Hungry," are ostentatiously dated. The absence of speech, except from televisors and loud-speakers, is adhered to even to the point of absurdity. Charlie's own silence, as is proved by his one brilliant piece of extemporaneous singing, is now far less of an art than an article of faith. Since Chaplin Is still one of the only two artists of genuine calibre whom the cinema has produced, we are forced to pay him the compliment of taking his film expressions seriously.

Measured by his own precise standards of craftsmanship, Modern Times is really quite a bad picture. Spasmodically brilliant, episodic, and at moments cruelly bitter, It loses wit by the very zeal with which it strains towards humanity. Charlie, the clown, was in his way the symbol and consoler of the people; Chaplin, the reformer, has lost touch with the common people, and produced what is little more than a gallant but uncomprehending blunder on the left. Captain Blood (New Gallery Ame; can). Director: Michael Curtlz.

Players: Enrol Flynn, Olivia de Haviland. The most striking thing about "Captain Blood." the new screen adaptation of the Sabatini tale, is its inordinate length. Five or six times I woke up with a start, thinking the thing was over, only to find one lot of fancy dress pirates still bashing another lot of fancy dress pirates, or Mr. Lionel Atwill looking sinister, or arroi lynn oastnng up and down the screen with a cutlass In his hand, and his face alight with its gentle, handsome, and heart-stirring smile. One of the things I liked best in my waking moments was the duel between Mr.

Flynn and Mr. Rathbone nvpr tv- possession of Miss Olivia de Haviland on the shores of the Caribbean. That seemed to me the most interesting bit of sword-play we had witnessed since Warren William made his screen debut in The Honour of the Family." Othar agreeable things I noticed were the clean and brilliant photography, the neat playing of Judge Jeffreys by Mr. Leonard Mudie, the singular historic accuracy of the Union Jack, the good looks of Miss de Haviland. and the admirable desire to Ketsp mings moving.

The rest of the alms's distinctions I regret I must have missed. The Last Days of Pompeii (Paramount--American). Director: Ernest Schoedsack. Players: Preston FosterBasil Rath-bone. I am afraid I find it a little impertinent in Hollywood to rewrite scriptural history as the excuse for a mammoth firework display, particularly in a picture that is so generally tawdry and pretentious as the present offering.

If ypu are thinking of visiting the show, you should dispossess your mind of the idea that it has anything to do with the old Bulwer Lytton novel. It has not. The picture (eaves you, of course, without a moment of doubt that the big Vesuvius set-piece at the end is the thing you are waiting for. But, in the meantime, you are invited to enjoy the religious conversion of a ruthless gladiator, whose son has been healed by Christ, but who denies Him just before Calvary. It should be noted in all fairness that Mr.

Basil Rath-bone's performance as Pilate in these scenes is probably the only really sensible, cuativated piece of work in the whole pic-, ture. But I still feel that this Fifth of November, gala show is hardly the best to bring it out. Hone Schule (Academy Austrian). Director: Erich EngeL Players: Rudolph Forster, Angela Salloker. This is not, as you might expect, a new variation of Madchen In Uniform," but a story of military honour in Vienna a romance of a cavalry officer cashiered for duelling, who assumes a mask and a false name and becomes the darting of the music-halls as an Haute Ecole rider.

Personally, I have never cared very much for High School riding, and' I have no difficulty whatsoever in resisting- the tight-lipped charm of Mr. Rudolph Forster, who plays the masked rider. When the two get together -in one picture, it isn't exactly my ideal of a happy evening. But for those people who don't share my distressing personal symptoms, I can imagine that Hohe Schule might be recommended as a serious, leisurely, and good-looking picture, without very much horse sense but plenty of horse appeal. Anything Goes (PlazaAmerican).

Director: Lewis Milestone. Players: Bing Crosby, Ethel Merman, Charlie Ruggles. Obviously. Shipmates For Ever (Regal American). Director: Frank Borzage.

Players: Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler. This picture is a bonanza for those who have an hour and fifty minutes to devote to Dick Powell. It is all about life in a naval academy, and demonstrably indicates, after twelve reels of simple patriotism, that the profession of navigation is superior to that of crooning. Many of Mr. Powell's hearers will have felt that before.

I Live My Life (Empire American). Director: W. S. Van Dyke. Players: Joan Crawford, Brian Ahern, Frank Morgan.

It doesn't in the least matter what you or I think about this picture. It is, as they say, in the bag." It has everything that is needed for a popular success romance, luxury, tantrums, uplift, cave-man tactics, smart lines, smart (and hideous) clothes, a wedding, two comic butlers, bigger and better eyelashes, and Brian Aherne. SUBURBS AND PROVINCES. She Married Her Boss (American). This comedy gay, brisk, irresponsible, and altogether refreshing is a film "to put on your must list.

The lady who marries her boss is the efficient personal secretary of the head of a chain of department stores; her story is well turned, and introduces one of the few American child players who can be endured for five minutes without pain. Foreign Affaires (British). Likable Walls-Lynn trivia of forgery and fortune-hunting in a Nice hotel. Still very expensive and decollete, but the lines, on the whole, slightly chastened in tone. At the Bottom of the World (American).

Dramatised camera record of Admiral Byrd's second expedition to the South Pole. Beautiful camera work and plenty of sideshows. While Parents Sleep (British). Simple-hearted adaptation of the stage play, involving a rich young man and a little shopgirl from Brixton in one of those mathematical equations of kind hearts and coronets propounded by Alfred Lord Tennyson some seventy years ago. The Gay Lady (American).

Go-as-you-please social satire of our more crashing snobs and bores. We're In the Money (American). Jan Blondell and Glenda Farrell, Hollywood favourite sister act, in their familiar gold-digging routine. Hero Comes the Band (American), Lucky-tub musical with a few good surprise packages and a lot of others, involving Ted Healy, Nat Pendleton, Harry Stockwell, and Ted Lewis and his band. Hot Tip (American).

James Gleason and Zasu Pitts in a minor racing event. 8Ilk Hat Kid (American). Uplift melodrama of New York's East Side, which doesn't quite work out the way it hopes. The Lady In Scarlet (American). Minor manifestation of the nonchalant murder species popularised by The Thin Man." Old Man Rhythm (American).

Just keeps rolling along. THE SONG OF INSTRUMENTS. (BY A. H. FOX STRANGWAYS.) Fifty years ago English music was something of a weakling (though It would have been surprised to hear anyone say so), and there was only one St.

James's Hall. The music was made chiefly by Germans, and Germans in those days usually wore their hair long; they had little Idea that the war and the peace were coming to cut it short; it was not till 1903 that one was aware that behind the young trees in the Kiel Canal there were gun embrasures. and by that time St James's days were over. Such music as we made here aped the Germans: I can remember a public-schools-university man who, quite unnecessarily, thought hii title to be a musician rested on his giving the barber a miss. This became so conspicuous that when he or his kind walked down Bond- street it was not unusual to hear the com ment, There's 'air." Now, man is so constituted that any allusion to his hair, or, failing that, to his hat, cuts him to the quick; and the musician's occasional sombrero provoked also, the phrase, Where did you get that 'at? But since then, fashion has veered.

The artist no longer wishes to be conspicuous, or, indeed, different in any external way from other people. Accordingly, he has himself snap-shotted hat-less and in flannels, without tie or collar, so that he may have the air of having just come from some internecine strife on (the cricket field, or, at any rate, ot having just laid aside the umpire's sun-coat, and of having submitted for the nonce to the ordeal of the camera only on his way to sterner labours with the pen. He has not. Indeed, ceased to wish to be different (that good advertising adjective), but he hopes that the difference will be seen not in his person, but in his music. That Is where we most wish to find it, and the place where we should naturally look for it is in the air that he submits for our approval and sym pathy.

An air is not such a tune as Gounod or Tchaikovsky patted into its place In some geometrically progressive number of bars; it is a chain of notes or chords or instrumental timbres that keeps coming back until we say that's what he meant," that's what It's all about." Air is an underlying something, the very life of it all, best Illustrated, perhaps, by its exact opposite hot air something that makes it Impossible for Charles Lamb, or any other musical Philistine, to ask, Prithee, sir, is that thine own air, or a wig? Most of all, an air Is singable, singable not -with the voice, but in the spirit. Once there was no music except what the voice not only could, but did sing, and the greatest revolution in the art was, as Sir Henry Hadow says, when music began very gradually to be made without words. But that did not change Its nature. The voice is dumb, for instance, before such a paean as the first movement of the Ninth Symphony. It might adumbrate a few of the wind figures, but what is it to do with the giant strides of the double basses, or even the unison cascade of strings at the opening? And where should we find word3 to match the universality of this human cry? Yet the thing is singing Itself all the time, deep down in us somewhere, and we are in it from the first note to the last singing an air, tossing it from one point of vantage to another, dim or clear, near or far, an air that goes to the heart because that Is where it came from.

Again, there Is music written expressly for voices stacks of it! that has no air. What reams of Maldeghem's book we wade through, puzzling out the baTren Peverneage and the amateur Verdonck, before we come to the concise da Monte and the secure Willaert! How a page of Mozart or Joseph (or even Michael) Haydn scintillates, among the mild Astorgas and Jomellis, the placid Naumann, and Incompetent Latrobe, in Latrobe's volumes. II the Puritans were as musically minded as Dr. Scholes thinks, one wonders whether they did not have a good reason as well as a bad for destroying so much cathedral music; besides the probability that in so doing they cleared the air for PurcelL We do not seem to be able to find much air In the music of to-day. One reason may be that orchestral instruments.

played by competence and sometimes by genius, are a new toy, and composers feel, some of therri, that they must have their game out before they settle down to work. Another is that, with the immediate publicity in which we live, afraid of not seeming clever enough they seize on what will catch attention rather than face the solitary labour that built up Bachs technique. A third and stronger one is that they have, as heirs of the past, decided on a style which may, If it can, ue true, dui must ai an costs De new; on the other hand, human feeling is more deeply seated than any style, and the unapproached heights of the Sanctus of the minor, or of the Jupiter," are not for him who is content with merely ban ning the airs of yesterday. (Continued from next column.) E. BLOCH, SYMPHONIC POEMS.

iwo snort pieces, truly eaued. poems, and less truly symphonic, of the last generation, were played on Thursday at Queen's Hall by the Philharmonic Orches tra, under Sir Thomas Beecham. Eclogues would have been a better name, out that was already chosen for L'Apresmidi d'un Faune," and it would have revealed too clearly their paternity. iney are oi etnerial beauty; one quiet pnrase is pusnea geniiy asiae to let an other take Its place; there is no hurry nor delay; not a note is wasted. They maae LeDussy i rois images, wnich followed them on the programme, sound clumsy in comparison, a thing that could not De said any other context.

THE FAT BOY'S RIVAL. (BY JAN GORDON.) "But the summer passes. The sky is charged with melted silver and stirred Ink. Night comes at four o'clock. At nine the offices open once more.

Let their baroque awnings fall, for the piece Is played elsewhere. Shut your eyes. The canvases still are gleaming. The mirror the. sun merge into one.

A world is discovered. Beggars sow gold by handfulls. Tired crowds play with fire. Death, fever, exile, and inconsolable love dance, hand in hand, Inconceivably agile, their bodies reptilian, their faces brilliant with cos metic. A world exists, terrible and sumr tuous, full of dangerous graces, of threatening and subtle colours, a world for ever newly clad, In which morning succeeds morning, where joy reigns Supreme, -where at the same feast pleasure clasps suffering, for the paths through Andre' Masson searches with obstinacy." That is a Tough translation of the last paragraph of M.

Georges Duthuit's intro duction to' the exhibition of the paintings of Andre Masson at the Wlldensteln Gal lery. M. Duthuit's prose is not unlike M. Masson's painting, which includes skeletons dancing before the cave-pierced hills of Guadix, skeletons reaping the chrome yellow fields of Andalusia under violet skies, locusts getting engaged to be married, or the adventures of a Don Quixote who is half-way between a skele ton and a locust. But the locusts and the skeletons are thin and.

meager forms, as also M. Masson's form is thin, and as, despite its vehemence, is his colour. At present he Is fashionable, yet I "am not convinced that in years to come he will be rated as high as that other delineator of Don Quixotes. Gustave Dore. AT THE LEFEVRE GALLERY.

When approaching the outposts of Art one may be uncertain how the tirailleurs look upon one another. How Miss Paule Vezelay, for Instance, would look on Andre' Masson I do not know. For her painting is as aloof from the tumultuous as ne is avid of it. Her Evenine in a Cemetary is not steeped in Apocalyp tic grue, but is a delicate whimsv in which fantasy is conveyed by a tinted geometry half borrowed from the mil liner's shop. Her compositions of severe shapes show a real sense of colour, but less feeling for the values of intervals between objects, so that it is difficult to say how long the amused interest would be seriously held.

In the larger rooms J. D. Fereusson. who, like Miss Vezelay, prefers to mature his British talents in Paris, has not been seen for some time in London. The recent death of Peploe leaves him as the only exponent of the original methods first developed in Glasgow, but exhibited by Fergusson with such success at the Autumn Salon of.

I think, 1912. The thirty-three canvases now on exhibition show Fergusson pursuing his original methods. In this he must be distinguished as the creator of a true style in contrast with the numbers of derivative and semi-derivative painters who have managed to achieve a wider notoriety. Fergusson's art js undoubtedly seductive, it Dlaces no obstacles before understanding, as do tne two artists previously mentioned, and. he is one of the most sensuous oolourists in Europe.

Yet charming as they may be, I sometimes feel almost disconcerted before some of his pictures. The method looks too easy. Ars est coelare Artem? It cannot, of course, be easy, since Fergusson is no happy-go-lucky painter, but we like our art to look at least difficult to do. or. if not difficult to do, at least difficult to appreciate.

It is odd that we can be dominated by fashion against which how hard it is to sin. For all that, let us determine to enjoy Fergusson desnlte his naughty ease, despite his charm of colour and his seductive surface. Still one may1 have preferences, and landscapes such as tne monumental Craig Coignac," or "Dinard, Evening," with Its subtly shaped curveB touch me more deeply than his glowing yet aloof women. In the next room we can at once regain virtue amid the almost murky visions of East London by William Gaunt. Like Masson and Miss Vezelay, Fergusson and Gaunt stand poles apart.

If Fergusson is the sybarite in colour Gaunt should be the hooligan in tone. Yet this does not detract from his real qualities, which are forcible. Compositions such as "Dock Walls" or "Oil Town give full sig nificance to the beauty that lies In ugliness. The curves of the simple arrangement "At the Waters Edge" might have tempted Fergusson himself, but not the coiour; he would have transformed It from jet and agate Into rubies and sapphires. BASIL JONZEN.

At the Redfern Gallery Basil Jonzen is trying an experiment. Deserting the almost textural manipulation of impasto with which he so successfully conveyed the quality of Spanish landscapes, he is trying for lightness and atmosphere by brusque horizontal touches. On a small scale such as "Hyacinths in Pots," the method is bright and telling, but in some of his other canvases such as the larger flower pieces, the method, effective with the blossoms, imposes a certain vague monotony on the surroundings. The method, rather modified, is successful, however, in the large composition of Flowers on a Studio Table," although the bottle of beer in the left-hand bottom corner intrudes unnecessarily. A.

S. HARTRICK. I would also like to call attention to the small exhibition of paintings and drawings by A. S. Hartrlck, R.W.S., at the Twenty One Gallery, Conduit-street.

Mr, Hartrick's work as a lithographer and illustrator is too well known to need description, and here is a set of fine drawings for the Queen's Quair," by Maurice Hewlett. But the most delightful things in the show are the small beach studies such as On the Beach, Bexhill, or Summer Holidays," for which Mr. Hart rick's personal use of watercolour is very satisfying. COVRTAVLD SARGENT CONCERT. Mozart's "Prague" Symphony, Beethoven's Fifth, and Hindemdth's Mathis der Maler" (new to us, composed two years ago) were played by the Philharmonic Orchestra under Herr F.

Stiedry at Queen's Hall on Monday. In the first two the conductor had ample opportunity to prove his worth, but missed it: we waited in vain for a graceful phrase and for a real sense, of rhythm; it was distressing to hear so beautiful an. instrument manhandled. Of Hindemith's symphony the second movement attained dignity of feeling, poignant tout restrained; the first is structurally imposing, and unity Is secured by a canto fermo, as the homage instrumental music pays to vocal. In the third, the temptation of St.

Anthony, It was a feat to maintain for eo long a jargon which never deviates into sense. Hindemith's contrapuntal talent has made some advance in this work; the various threads have some individual interest and are not mere chatter; these are also relieved by judicious contrasts of mass effects. B.B.C. CONCERT. On Wednesday, at Queen's Hall, we had Mozart's "Jupiter" and Beethoven's minor Concerto, followed by Stravinsky's "Oedipus," under M.

Ansermet. We do not for the moment need more instruction in the Concerto, heard often of late, and if we did, Mr. Dohnanyl's fingers were not in sufficient practice to impart it. In Mozart's slow movement one section of the orchestra was allowed to obscure another, and the wind phrases were santimentalised by the conductor1 the finale was taken at the maximum pace COMING ENGAGEMENTS. To-morrow.

B.o. Albert Hall. Elijah lng and 2.30 Saturday). (every even- S.15. Queen1 Hall.

London Orcheatra. Symphony B.30. Grotrlan Hall, forte 1. Josephine Lea (plano- 8.30. Wiemore Hall.

SuggU. Tuaiday. 5.30. Wlgmore Hall. S.1S.

Queen'a Hall. Chamber Ensemble. Whlnyatea Quartet. BerUn Philharmonic B.30. Grotrlan Hall.

Max MelU and mann Leeb (tenor nd lute). Her- B.30. Wlgmore Hall. Adlla Fachlrl. Wednesday.

3. Hastings. Festival of Music. 8.30. Grotrlan Kali.

Nina Mllklna (pianoforte). B.30. Aeolian Hall. Medtner. B.30.

Wlgmore Hall. Meriel St. Clair (vocalist). B.30. Queen's Hall.

B.B.C. Thursday. B.o. Northern Polytechnic, phony Orchestra. Modern Sym- 8.30.

Aeolian Hall. 8.30. Grotrlan. HalL Peppin. Leona Flood (violin).

Mary and Geraldine Friday. 8.30. Wlgmore Halt. 8.30. Grotrlan Hall, forte).

Edna lies (pianoforte) Hilda Rockitro (plano- Saturday. 11.0.- Central Hall. Chlldren's Concert. Vivian Langrlsh (plano- 3.0. Wlgmore Hall, forte).

that allows its weighty texture to tell, and no more, a relief from the record breaking that has come into fashion. Stravinsky's work is not wholly un worthy of the greatest tragedy conceived by man; there Is a certain nobility of mood and a wise reticence, broken at moments by some jarring puerilities one could wish away. The texture is boldly diatonic and so at least we know what the man Is talking about, and that Is more than we have been led of late to expect. The Latin text, which has the practical advantage of being singable, is In the style of the Vulgate, and there are places where the English translator has shown cleverness in finding out what it meant; the false quantities (mentlta, tacere, etc.) are Stravinsky the pronunciation (Italian vowels and English consonants) will, we hope, become the accepted one here. The work as a whole stands next highest, perhaos, to "Les Noces and, for those who like the sufcn ject, Petrouchka." CVILHERMINA StfGGIA.

Mme. Suggia's recital at Wigmore Hall on Monday began conventionally with Valentini's sonata, reached its climax in Bach's unaccompanied major Suite and Beethoven's A major sonata (with George Reeves), then relaxed Into a suc-r cession of pieces of the sort that has now supplanted the once Indispensable Popper's Papillons. The Valentin! was ardent and stylish, the Beethoven flowing and urgent. But both were sur passed by the Bach, in which everything was delicate, flexible, and alive, the phrasing gracious, the tone unforced and exquisite. CONTEMPORARY MUSIC.

Sandor Veress's 'cello sonata, with the two instruments mimicking one another monotonously throughout three move ments, seemed so much canon fodder. Antal Molnai-s Suite for violin and piano forte was filled with bitter-sweet romance, and finally grew violent and seemed In- exnert. Paul Hermann's Duo for violin and 'cello, much the best, was resourcefully written and of great energy, though exceedingly long. The three soloIsts Paul Hermann himself, Zoltan Szekely, and Louis Kentner were all excellent. SABINE ALTER.

Sabine Kalter sang Lleder by Mendelssohn, Robert Franz and Schubert at Grotrian Hall on Wednesday. Her voice was wonderfully rich, but her Interpretations lacked astuteness and variety. Franz's Stille Sicherhelt she sang almost perfectly, yet a consistently warm, contented, and kindly expression was not to the advantaee of every song. Die La Pastorella.1 Nnehtstfipk and "Am See" suffered. therefore, from a blunting and too power ful common denominator.

ueruia Moore's accompanying was sensitive in every detail. ADILA FACHIRI. Adlla Fachiri and Kathleen Long con eluded their recital at Wigmore Hall on Tuesday with the Kreutzer Sonata. Miss Fachiri's contribution was bold and keen, and not at all sensuous; Miss Long's steady, discriminating, yet some times because of not very energetic fingers, rather heavy without being rlear There was much that was vital; but the fast movements could have been more easily Druiiam, me siow movement more deep and alluring. (OontlniMd In preceding column.) MRS.

AUGUSTUS RALLI ANNOUNCES THE SECOND SERIES OF CONCERTS BRITISH ARTISTS At THE HYDE PARK HOTEL. On SUNDAY EVENINGS at 9 o'clock Patron: THE LORD PALMER OP READING. TO-NIOHT (SUNDAY), et 9 p.m. DIDO AENEAS HENRY PUROELL. (Concert Performance.) Belinda MARY HAMLIN Dido JOAN CROCS Boroeress MARY JARRED Aeneu SUMNER AUSTIN "Sailor" SYDNEY NORTHOOTE The Witches TUDOR SINGERS (g merobCT) THE BOYD NEEL STRING ORCHESTRA.

Conductor, BOYD NEEL. ERNEST LUSH (Harpsichord (courtesy of B.BXX). Tickets. 6s. (at the doors i.

IBBS it TILLETT, 124. W.I. WIOMORE HALL. TO-MORROW 8.30. SUGG1A.

SUGGIA. SONATA RECITAL with KATHLEEN LONG. Sonata Brahma mB.ts CGsar Francs. 6oina in D. Op.

102 Bluthner Piino. Tickets. J2 95 6s SS IBBg fV TILLETT. 124. Wlgtnore STOMORE HALL.

TUESDAY NEXT 30 AD1LA FACHIRI. BACH PROGRAMME. Concerto In major for Violin end S1r1n(rs. Ohjaoonn (Sonate In minor), for Violin Solo. Suite In major for Violin Solo.

Concerto In mfnor for Violin and String. ADILA FACHIRI. Aaslstcd by a CHAMBER ORCHESTRA. Oonthictor BRUCE HYLTON STEUART. Tlcketa.

and Is TBBS tt TTLLETT. 124, Wlgmore--it W.I. WIOMORE HALL. WEDNESDAY NEXT. 8.30.

MERIEL CLAIR. SONO RECITAL. Pianoforte GERALD MOORE. Boaendorfer Piano. TlckeU and Si.

1BBS TTLLETT. VI. 1. OBOTRliAN HALL. THURSDAY NEXT.

8.30 MARY AND OERALDINE PEPP1N. REOTTAL OP WORKS FOR TWO PIANOFORTES. Bluthner Pianos. Tickets. sa ana oa.

IBBS A TTLLETT. 124. W.I. WIOMORE BALL. SATURDAY NEXT, at 3.

VIVIAN LANGRISH. PIANOFORTE RECITAL. BoaendOTfer Piano. Tlcketa. 3s.

6d a. 4d. IBBS TILLETT. 134. THE PALLADIUM, Osford-cu-cus.

NATIONAL SUNDAY LEAOUE CONCERTS. LAMOND. LAMOND. QXTNTJAY NEXT. 3 3.

BEETHOVEN RECITAL Sonatan: Moonligiit. Pathtigue, Si Bechsteln Piano All Sealu Reserved 8a. frS. 3s. 6d, 2s.

4d 9 i Od at Palladium N.S.L. Offlceji, 54, Red Llon-v, WC l.and IBBS Sz TTLLE'rr. 1 24. W.I. QUEEN" 8 6016 HALL.

SStaJB ChappeU Ud, ROYAL PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY. LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA THURSDAY. FEB. 27, at 8.15. Symphony No.

4, tn flat BEETHOVEN Viola Concerto WILLIAM WALTON Symphony jo. 6.. SCHUBERT wuite The Bvan oi Tuoneia ttjttt ttta OD. 22 The Return of Lemminkarncr oiacajlUD WILLIAM SIR THOMAS BEECHAM. Roeerved, 10..

7s. 4s Unreserved. 2s. KEITH PROWSE: Queen's Hall: and usual Agents. QUEEN'S HALL.

LONDON SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA. (Hon. President: Lord Howard da Walden.) TO-MORROW (MONDAY) at 8.15, Hytnnen Uber Gretforlanlaclie Choralmelodlen. Karl Holler. (Pint Performance In England.) Defence of Guinevere Ave Maria tl-'Lrst Performance In Enland.) Vocalist: VERA DE VILLIERS.

Symphony No, 6, Palhet-laue TschaltowAr. Conductor: ALBERT COATES. Tickets. 7a 6.1.. 2.

L. O. SHARPE. 25. Havmarket.

B.WJl. CONCERTS continued on Page 11. HAROLD HOLT, curPTomrREErr, neiw bond-street, w.i. Telephone: Regent QUEEN'S HALL. Sol Leuui: Chappell dc Ltd.

SUN. NEXT, at 3.15. HAROLD HOLT present! TOTI DAL MONTE. Tfctt World-famous Soprano. LUIGI MONTESANTO.

The Celebrated Baritone. TOTI DAL MONTE. At the Piano. IVOR NEWTON. 3a.

7s. 8e. 6d. 10. 6d 121..

159. Quwn'i Hall. Qhappcll's, 50. New Bond-st. Agents.

QUEEN'S HALL. HAROLD HOLT preterit HOROWITZ. THREE SUBSCRIPTION CONCERTS. FEB. 25, at 8.30.

HAYDN, LISZT, SCHUMANN, MAR. 5, at 8.30. CHOPIN RECITAL. HOROWITZ. MAR.

13, at 8.30. HOROWITZ. JOaaeerto No. 5 Hat lEmperon tCoooaTto No. 3 minor WITH THE LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA.

OONDTJCTOR: BARBIROLLI. ION FOR CONCERTS: 111. 15., 23.. SO Rail Tickets: 6s 8s, II Quean' BI1. SO.

45a. 10s. 15.. 20. 50.

New Sond-atxeet. Agents, BmIbtw Piano. QUE2W8 HALL. (Sola Lessees obarrpell and Ltd.) B.B.C. SYMPHONY CONCERTS.

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BAUni'UOVEN Symnhpny No. 7, In A. JOSEPH SZIGETI ADRIAN BOULT SHE B.B.C. SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA, Leader: ARTHUR CATTERALL. Tickets Sa 7a.

from BBOADCABTTNO HOUSE (Wei. 4468). PEULa, QUEENS MALL CLan zazo). TUESDAY NEXT. 8.13.

iY anaaoRiPTioN concert. BERLIN PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA. CHAMBER ENSEMBLE. ET QUINTET. Op.

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PIANOFORTE RECITAL. BEETHOVEN. CHOPIN. LISZT. VAN WYCEC.

25. Haymarket. WHJ. 66Q. AEOLIAN HALL.

THURSDAY NEXT. PCtST LONDON APPEARANCE OF LEON A FLOOD. B.30. Young American Violinist. PiatK) GERALD Piano.

Tickets 1 9ji (.. VAN WYCK. 25. Havmartel. WHI.

4660. WBOMORE HALL. FRIDAY NEXT, 8.30. EDNA ILES. PIANOFORTE RECITAL.

ammow.V PIANO. Ticket "I 9 I. WTitflltD VAN WYCK, 25. Hfftnaxke. Whfl.

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