February's outstanding musical event in New York City was undoubtedly the Metropolitan Opera's production of Benjamin Britten's Peter Grimes. This took place on the 12th. The critics were in the majority very favourable—some eulogized the choral work, some the orchestral work, some (for curious, inexplicable reasons) the production ; and the majority praised the singers. Time Magazine had given its cover and a four-page article to Britten : a unique piece of publicity.

The average informed musical critic, asked to write an article on Music in Australia, would—if he were bright enough to think of it—take refuge in the old story about the history of snakes in Iceland—“There are no…” etc., etc. He would be more mistaken even than usual.

Even, a lightning visit to Italy reveals the almost overwhelming musical activity in that country. Italy used to be one of the most conservative musical domains in Europe. A peculiar organization of concert and operatic life did not allow for a great influx of foreign works, particularly of a type to which the public taste would be unlikely to respond easily. As the Fascist regime fell more and more under the influence of national-socialist ideas of ‘cultural bolshevism’ the country became increasingly excluded from developments outside the totalitarian sphere and the war years cut what ties still remained. Now, as in Germany, a young generation is at work trying frantically to make up for the loss and to gain contact, aided by a general feeling that Italy, as the cradle of European music, must regain its place in the front ranks of musical developments.

The virtuoso orchestra and its virtuoso conductor are the most popular musicians in America today. They are the successors of the violin recitalist who toured the country playing to audiences of adoring women; to the coloratura soprano who was a thousand times more admired for the sounds she could make than for the relevance of the sounds to the music (such as it was) on her programme. They are the musical equivalent of the ballerina from whose slipper champagne is sipped, of the radio crooner with his following of swooning adolescent females, of the movie star who collects fans.

When an opera goes into rehearsal the script conveys a relatively complete idea of the poet's and composer's intention. In the text of a play there is nothing but the words and some stage directions—in Shakespeare very few, in Barrie quite long and elaborate—but in no case do they give more than the sketchiest description of how to act the parts.

Opera singers are generally thought of as indifferent actors. Why? On the whole singers are imaginative, very emotional, and sensitive to the music that they sing. It would be fairer to accuse them of a lack of knowledge of the technical side of stagecraft, a lack of knowledge of the kind of thing, in fact, that is taught at any dramatic academy to aspirants to the straight stage.

Philosophy, said a great thinker, is the product of wonder. With even more assurance that may be said of art. The basic weakness of all art criticism is that it can analyse everything but the “wonder” of a work. Art is certainly never the product of explanation. Picasso has complained that everybody wants to “understand” painting. ‘Why’, he asked, ‘do they not try to understand the songs of birds? Why are they content to love the night, a flower, everything around them, without seeking to understand such things ? Whilst painting they must understand’. Those who try to explain a work of art, he added, are nearly always on the wrong track. He might have dropped the “nearly”. If one wants to know the time it is scarcely necessary to take the clock to bits.