Word: victrolas
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...regard for human fallibilities and amenities, as well as for cats, birds, butterflies and flowers. What makes the Sussex Merlin all the more remarkable is that he can use a welding torch and glue. With tin, antique doorknobs, hip baths, umbrellas, bicycle parts, lamp shades, stained glass, saucepan lids, Victrola horns, ear trumpets, soup strainers, miles of wicker and wiring, he transforms cartoon fantasies into whispering, whistling, wheezing, whirring, gothic-kinetic machines that work, but mostly play. And mock...
Beethoven: Symphony No. 7 in A, Op. 92 (The Marlboro Festival Orchestra, Pablo Casals, conductor; Columbia; $6.98). Few performances of this eloquent work can stand comparison with the 1936 recording by Toscanini and the New York Philharmonic (still available on RCA Victrola). This one can. Taped during a live performance in 1969 when Casals was 93, it is a summing up of all the attributes associated with him as a conductor: full-blooded sonorities, razor-sharp attacks, irresistible rhythms, shadings of almost chamber-music delicacy. Are there more like this in the Columbia vaults...
...notes some of the minor agonies of a lifetime trying to escape from literary renown: "Now Marmaduke, you can tell your friends you've shaken hands with Christopher Robin." Milne mentions his toe-curling horror at hearing classmates at boarding school play a record of Vespers on the Victrola: "Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers." Enchanted Places is eloquent about the joys of countryside, the felicities of light verse. Milne writes with wit and humane perception about his later relationship with his father. In a space hardly larger than a Pooh book...
...years ago when he died at 77-already muffled in a banner bearing the legend "Distinguished Man of Letters." But here, in The Twenties, Wilson's ghost puts in a timely appearance that should forestall too much veneration-breaking out the gin, putting a record on the Victrola and eagerly looking over every pretty flapper in the room...
...come two competing versions. Ah, free enterprise! Both sets manage to confirm that this is the finest evening-length ballet score since Tchaikovsky. Neither, as it happens, quite equals the poetry and passion of Charles Munch and the Boston Symphony in their old single LP of excerpts (RCA Victrola), but both are otherwise excellent. Maazel has an edge by virtue of his more incisive phrasing, livelier tempos and London's more spacious (and, appropriately at times, more sepulchral) sonics...