In an interview with Mr. Lindsay "Salient" was given a few figures concerning the situation and the reasons why an orchestra of such a high calibre should be in this state were made fairly obvious.

According to Mr. Lindsay, the orchestra can earn £1000 a year. This is from private engagements, studio broadcasts, concerts in schools, and public concerts. But the minimum cost of keeping the orchestra in existence is £2000. Where is this money to come from? One solution is the formation of the Alex Lindsay String Orchestra foundation. This, it was hoped, would provide the remainder by soliciting subscriptions, bequests, and the like it was thus thought that the orchestra might be put on a strictly financial basis but unfortunately this has not been the case—and the orchestra can look forward to a very uncertain time in the near future.

The trouble is, said Mr. Lindsay, that the fees for broadcasting and for playing at schools are not nearly enough. These fees are supposed to cover the cost of one rehearsal and the actual concert. But often the orchestra has had to do without a rehearsal. That is not good policy if the present high standard is to be maintained. The Government is quite well aware that the orchestra will play for an insufficient fee, but Mr. Lindsay holds that this is morally wrong. He argues that the broadcasting authorities are taking advantage of the players willingness to perform—and to perform extremely well with a very poor return.

It must be remembered that many members are also private teachers, and have to fit in the commitments of careful practice with the other obligations of their professions. Added to that is the enormous amount of paper work and organisation involved, and this has to be borne by members of the orchestra, but mostly by Alex himself.

What is the solution? More subscriptions and better fees from broadcasting. Neither of these are an imposition on the Wellington public—or on music lovers at Varsity for that matter—and the orchestra has every right to expect this help. The orchestra gives musicians an opportunity to join in a highly accomplished combination, and is always ready to play new compositions of any merit by N.Z. composers. But most important. Alex thinks that the orchestra is now capable of handling the works of modern composers, and these, though dim-cut will be presented at every opportunity. At present there are few occasions when modern orchestral works may be heard.

Therefore, even if it will never be a popular group, the orchestra deserves more support than it is getting at present, and it also deserves higher fees for broadcasts. As examples of the kind of work it achieves, the two major items performed at the recent concert are typical, and reviews are presented below. So if you please Mr. Maestro, give us more music!

The Four Seasons

The twelve violin concertos "Il cimento dell 'ormoniae dell' invenzione," (the conflict between harmony and invention) Op. 8 by Vivaldi contain in numbers one to four, "Le quattro stagioni," or the Four Seasons. The sequence of four "Concerti Grossi" amounts in effect to a violin concerto, of which the solo was here played with imperturbable excellence by Mauprice Clare.

Essentially the music is an early example or programme music which lends colour to the contention that Vivaldi is still an underestimated composer, imaginative as Well as technically well equipped. Each concerto is prefaced by a sonnet giving the story of the particular season dealt with, and throughout the score motives are clearly labelled as representing objects or events in that sonnet. This naive procedure is responsible for some surprising passages which would be inexplicable were it not for their illustrative function as in "Winter" were repeated quavers and semiquavers (recalling the Frost scene in Purcell's King Arthur) at the words "teeth chattering with the cold." or again the sudden chromatic poignancies at the words "the shepherd laments." or the strange intervals of the solo violin phrase at "the death of the huntsman's quarry." Like most programme music, in fact, the score loses half its point when the programme is not known; but even listen to purely as agreeable sound the concertos are attractive. I wish the order of the works could be changed so that we could here the remarkable "Winter" concerto first. This would throk into high relief the ensuing "Spring Concerto."

So much for the music, as for performance I was not so impressed with this the second performance by such a musicianally combination, as with the original presentation in December, 1952. On that occasion I was not present in the Town Hall but glued to the family radio in Hastings where although the frequences range was restricted by our receiver, microphone placement in the Hall had ensured proper balance of soloist and orchestra. There seemed to me to be a lack of brilliance noted in that earlier presentation. This [unclear: may] be attributable in part to the playing of the piano continuo (which replaced the harpsicord in the original score) for I noted a change of pianist in the second performance Blurred phrasing emitted from the machine and at times, simple accompanying arpeggio assumed an almost concertante part. That then was how it was to this pair of ears.

Bartok Divertimento

Bartok can be a man of great humour, the malicious type of humorist who sticks pins Into balloons and pulls chairs away from under the unsuspecting This divertimento is marked by many such surprises.

The Vaughan-Williams earlier in the evening had conditioned the audience to strange harmonies so the first movement of Bartok was quite acceptable

The beautiful, slow second movement almost stunned its audience Scarcely rising above a whisper violins and violas truce out a delicate structure. These torturous unhurried contemplations produce a most exasperating tension. Then with slow deliberation Bartok heaps ascending trills onto his work. They pile up and up until a huge, desperate (wise chord dramatically knocks the bottom out of his elegant arrangement. The sudden snap in the tension produced an audible gasp of relief. Some one in the gallery dropped and rolled a bottle under the seats, a chair broke and H.P. was heard to spill his Jaffas on the floor. After this triumph Bartok set the fiddles to renew their ominous weaving.

A vigorous, clattering third movement got under way studded with unholy discords and pushed along with tempetuous cross rhythms. Suspended between two such barbaric passages dangled a ridiculous Weiner Waltz played pizzicato. Its incongruity was greeted by muffled sniggers.

This is the kind of music humourless people write indignant letters to the "Listener' 'about. Fortunately the Town Hall audience appreciated Mr. B.'s jokes. Perhaps the amazing [unclear: surprise] of the evening was the competent playing of this most difficult piece after it was announced that the orchestra had seen the score for Just on one week.