Within three days of their affiliation the Contemporary Arts Group held a "Shoestring Concert" in the Memorial Theatre. Over two hundred were present. It was unfortunate that there were the usual flaws of an amateur concert: lack of a competent M.C., poor continuity between items and a badly planned programme which didn't end until approximately 11.15. The quality of items ranged from the I sublime to the ridiculous.

Jazz Club members contributed two short sets at the beginning and end of the concert. Compared with some of the heavier items in a I rather pretentious evening the club was a breath of fresh air.

Murphy's forceful trumpet and Gervin's refined alto—showing a slightly more masculine vigour than in previous concerts—led a small but voluble group. Bassist Tommy Tamati and drummer Dave Lawrence although failing sometimes to provide the necessary rhythmic foundation, produced some irrepressible humour, and the high spot of the evening's jazz was probably the dialogue between the two. John Scully, beautifully deadpan, introduced in his best avant-garde manner a bit of Palm Court sax calculated to confirm the "highbrow" opinions of jazz. When the boys took themselves seriously they were less successful.

Peter Bland was obviously ill at ease in the unnatural context of a stage, but he seemed to relax more when he spoke several of his poems. The first few poems combined farce with force and were technically deceptively simple. The Love Song was an aesthetically sensual poem with delicacy in the imagery. He was clearly the outstanding genuine poet of the evening.

Alistair Campbell was disappointing. His Love Song of cows and daffodils and a country lane seemed a little Wordsworthian.

Tim Eliot gave a delightful rendering of the verse of the 19th century Scottish "poet" McGonigal. He declaimed this preposterous "inspired" verse in broad and ponderous Scots burr.

Peter Varley recited Lorca's Lament. I'm afraid the audience remained unmoved to the tragedy of Ignatio's death, as the reading was a little too stylized and pompous to convey any depth of emotion.

Dance

The choreography of the dancing was satisfactory but there were flaws such as the lack of synchronisation in the Rhumba dancing and poor choice of music in the final dance by Jane Maddox. An interesting experiment was the dance improvisation by Jane Taylor to a poem read most effectively by Con O'Leary.

An Academy Award "Plasticine" film made by O'Neill of Christ-church was an excellent choice. This allegoric cartoon "A Flight to Venus" involved a novel technique using animation of grotesquely human plasticine puppets. The film begins with a campaign for recruiting spacemen. The intrepid volunteer who survives the "medical" sets off in a rocket and lands on desolate Venus. On a little plaque inscribed: "Laid by the few survivors of an atomic war who now live underground."

Underground he discovers some little green men who greet him tearfully. "Why do you cry?" he asks. The reply is: "Many years ago, life was easy. Venus was in peace. But just in case we had lots of conferences. And just in easel the Greens made Atom bombs. And just in case the Reds made Atom bombs. Then one day . . ."

... A terrifying symbolic representation of atomic explosion is followed by scenes of silent desolation. The background theme of "Pop goes the Weasel" played very slowly heightens the dramatic effect of bathos.

The spaceman invites the little creatures to return with him to Earth, but through a telescope they show him Earth with tiny mushroom-clouds popping out everywhere.

This was a technically brilliant film and deserves to be commended for its dramatic originality.

Music

Jennifer McLeod gave a sensitive rendering of three pleasant but rather trite piano compositions by Gary Mutton. The Boulez Piano Sonata No. 1, 1st movement played brilliantly by Robin Maconie was not received seriously by the audience. This drastically impressionistic experiment (similar to electronic music) was a little long for the amused listeners and when someone began to add chirruping sound effects, Mr Maconie left abruptly in disgust.

It was a pity that the two sonnets by Charles Brasch set to music by Douglas Lilburn sung by Nelson Wattie had to be cancelled due to the lateness of the hour.