Word: phonographic
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...professional craftsmanship." Cole worked as hard as he played. Each morning he would sit down at the piano for three hours. When he went on a cruise he took-along with his tailored dinner jackets and crates of his favorite champagne-a piano organ, a metronome, a phonograph and records, two dozen pencils and a quire of music paper. On one voyage, from New York to New Guinea to Rio, he even took along 'Writer Moss Hart. When their ship docked in New York 4½ months later, they presented their producers with a finished musical. Jubilee...
...green easy chairs that are prime candidates for recovering. His personal secretary, Susan Clough, sits in an office adjacent to the study. When she is not typing letters or penciling in the almost constant changes in Carter's daily schedule, she is feeding the President's Panasonic phonograph with classical LPs. The background music plays all day. Clough types the musical program on a tidy series of yellow three-by-five cards and places them on the President's desk so that he can make mental notes of what he is hearing. Some of the music...
...Vonetta Mc-Gee drifts in and out with all the serenity of a model in a soap commercial and with none of the biting intellectuality of Angela Davis. (We know the lady is classy, however, because during a scene at her home Vivaldi is ostentatiously being played on the phonograph.) Whether the performers could have done more is hard to tell with a script as one-dimensional as this. Like so many other recycling jobs. Brothers ends up as cardboard...
...talks not just in parsable sentences but in well-constructed paragraphs can exert a magical force on his auditors, who generally realize too late (as Simon's do) that he is using words not to reveal but to conceal. He also uses them as he does his phonograph - to drown out the sounds of pain, to keep everyone at a distance from his precious, empty self. It is a perversion of language's basic function, almost a parody of it, and a clear and present danger of literacy, which, like any virtue, can be carried to excess...
...wonderful town but, as Writer Edward Hoagland has asked, "Is it worth the blood in the throat?" With a bit of the self-dramatizing that New Yorkers love, Hoagland writes: "Sometimes when I'm changing records at night I hear shrieks from the street, sounds that the phonograph ordinarily drowns...