Word: harked
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Together with the Juilliard String Quartet (TIME, Aug. 23), the new trio gives the U.S. unsurpassed mastery of chamber music. Critics struggling to define its excellence find no one around to compare it with. They hark back instead to the years before World War I when French Pianist Alfred Cortot, French Violinist Jacques Thibaud and Pablo Casals were the presiding maestri. Even the great trio of the '40s-Heifetz, Feuermann and Rubinstein-is not in the running, for Stern, Rose and Istomin make up a trio unique in attitude as much as accomplishment. They play as if for themselves...
...Joel Cohen are not potential classics, but some of them, aided by Mayer's lyrics, are corking good. Corbett's title song. "William Had the Words!" had people humming at intermission, and his parody in song of the old musical No, No, Nanook (which features the magnificent ditty "Hark, hark, hark, hark, the call of the arctic") is brilliant...
...Between World Wars, Collector Vincent recorded everyone from Lenin to Stalin to Wilson to F.D.R. He developed the famous wartime V-disc for G.I.s to "write" home, set up the multilingual sound systems at the Nuremburg trials and the U.N. Out of all this came a memorable 1950 record, Hark! The Years, narrated by Fredric March, which has been a collector's item selling for as much as $75. Happily, the Michigan State audiovisual center has just reissued...
...long. Even the film's finest scene is marred by excess: as a pathetically boyish American deserter is led before a firing squad in a vast snowy field, the sound track erupts with Frank Sinatra's dulcet warbling of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, followed by Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. The choice seems arbitrary, a victory cheaply won. Or does an audience really have to be elbowed black and blue to understand that war is a far cry from Christmas...
...less rewarding than making it. People talked about the guilt complex that drove Nuffield; the Establishment, for which he had no use anyhow, scorned him as a parvenu. Angrily, he hired a genealogist, who traced his family to Oxfordshire gentry of 1278, a date few noble lords hark back to. Then W.R.M., as friends called him, retired deeper into the shade and kept six secretaries busy sorting the 2,000 requests for funds he received weekly. Toward the end, Nuffield began to complain that "they like me for my money instead of myself," sometimes told his friends that...