Word: ballades
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Housman's emotions were not only split between the great and the puerile; their range was remarkably narrow and primitive. His natural meter was quite as primitive-chiefly ballad stanzas (with some beautiful original variants on them), and the four-beat couplets which are the basic pulse of English poetry. But his subtle variety and mastery of tone, developed upon those few simple emotions and within that narrow range of key, are as remarkable as anything short of Mozart's minuets. Only the greatest poets had a better musical ear, a subtler handling of meter...
Concluded Gould: "Ratings have come to fulfill the sinister function of being the absolute critical standard for radio programing. It is as though a Rembrandt, a Beethoven symphony, a burlesque comic, a Tin Pan Alley ballad, a Keats sonnet and a pulp-magazine serial all were to be weighed on the same scales. That would seem too much even for radio...
...program opened with the dreamy old song, Won't You Wait Till the Cows Come Home, accented by the tinkle of a cowbell and the recorded moo of a Jersey heifer. It closed with a gooey, sentimental ballad called Contented, sung by a weepy-voiced tenor ("I'm on heaven's own doorstep, so contented with you"). Between the moo and the mush, the Carnation Milk Co. poured out a half hour of semi-classical music as thick and sweet as its product. To keep its Contented Hour flowing smoothly, Carnation also hired such big names...
Last week, NBC's Contented Hour, one of radio's oldest and best-known, began its 15th year. But it was almost a new show. Gone were the moo and the bell, the bleating ballad. Only familiar prop was Canadian-born, 36-year-old Conductor Percy Faith. Regarded as one of radio's top arrangers, he is equally deft with light classics and new jazz. His formula for a new contentment: more Kostelanetz-like arrangements of Gershwin and Rodgers, fewer old soothers like Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes...
...hard little heel, besides dancing her nimble feet off. Mitzi Green (Babes in Arms) plays the part and catches the color of a Texas Guinan. There is a wonderful takeoff of a big Ziegfeldish production number in which showgirls appear as bright-plumaged birds. There is a funny ballad in which a gangster reminisces about his rubbed-out pals. Most of Jerome Robbins' dances are lively and amusing; some of Morton Gould's tunes are witty, if not very tuneful...