In any survey of Schoenberg's. work one fact must be emphasized above all: that no younger composer writes quite the same music as he would have written, had Schoenberg's music not existed. The influence of an artist is not, even during his life time, confined to his disciples or even to those who have felt the direct impact of his work. It is filtered through to the humblest participant, first in the work of other original artists who have absorbed and re-interpreted it for their own purposes; then through the work of hundreds of lesser individuals, who unconsciously reflect the new tendencies even when they are opposed to them. For genuinely new ideas determine the battle-grounds on which their opponents are forced to attack. In the very process of combat the latter undergo decisive experiences which help to carry the new ideas forward.

“I believe that film music is capable of becoming, and to a certain extent already is, a fine art, but it is applied art, and a specialized art at that.” Dr. R. Vaughan Williams said this in an article he wrote for the R.C.M. Magazine not long ago. It would seem that Tempo agrees with Vaughan Williams, proof of which is its decision to publish regular critical articles on contemporary film music in future issues.

The Borough, as described by George Crabbe, is a small fishing and ship-building town on the East Coast. Crabbe sets himself to examine the Borough from all aspects, entitling the main sections of his poem ‘The Church,’ ‘Sects and Professions in Religion,’ ‘Professions (Law, Physic),’ ‘Trades,’ ‘Amusements,’ ‘Inns,’ ‘the Poor of the Borough,’ ‘Prisons,’ ‘Schools,’ and little by little, character by character, assembling a picture of the whole life of a nineteenth century town.

Is there such a thing as school music? Has it any special qualities apart from certain limitations of topic, vocal compass and melodic elaboration? The answer to this question, which is the perpetual concern of music masters and mistresses, and may be the occasional concern of some composers of to-day, depends on our view of education and of the community life which normally sustains it and is indeed a training in itself. Some school activities are admittedly a preparation for the ‘next world,’ or in other words for the industrial struggle and possibly also for some of the amenities of the worker's leisure hours. But the best in school life is of value in itself. It may make its own selections from full or adult experience, but it must satisfy the present need of an individual or group for experience commensurate with realised or latent powers.

“If Puccini were alive to-day, he'd be writing for the films.” A friend of mine recently expressed this provocative opinion, one consideration of which propounds the interesting questions of the economic possibility of opera surviving, and of the measure of fulfilment which the composition of film music affords to a composer whose leanings are towards the dramatic. The former question will probably be decided quite automatically. The financial strength of the film industry provides handsome rewards for the professional composer; the opera house does not. Opera was a living art in the countries most affected by the war, and it seems probable that its survival at all in these countries can only be on the basis of the well-tried repertoire. If this be so, the opera-house cannot avoid taking on the artistic value and functions of a museum.

‘Miracle in the Gorbals’ unquestionably ‘knocks’ one. A single performance causes a deep dent in one's artistic consciousness and memory. In violent revolt against modern civilization, the ballet gives a vivid picture of the horrors of hooliganism lit up by a peculiarly livid lamp of idealism in the person of the Stranger. Glasgow at its worst will have none of him and his miracles, and after tasting blood intends to go on in the same way with its knife-fiends and prostitution. We are not left with any hope, only with horror: the criticism of human nature is not relieved by any faith in the benefits or comforts of religion or even philosophy. Or is one meant to find a faint spark of hope for the future in the women and the old man left on stage as the curtain falls? To me the futility of the death is the tragedy itself.

During the four years of servitude under German occupation, French musicians had to fight with unflinching determination to prevent their music from becoming submerged by Nazi influence. The Nazis pounced on Radio Paris at the very beginning of their occupation and used the Station for their own artistic propaganda. At that time, this Post had the best symphony orchestra in France and the artists engaged were in the first rank. The Nazis brought their own music and artists from Germany to Paris. Dr. Piersig, who was Goebbels' counterpart in the realm of music, propagated the superiority of German music. He pointed out that the beauty and influence of French music were on the decline as was the power of the State. The Nazis took complete control of the two opera houses in Paris and decided which operas should be performed. In actual fact, French artists had to perform a new German opera and ballet five times a year. In 1942 the Nazis presented Pfitzner's ‘Palestrina,’ an elaborate work in four acts. Werner Egk, one of the younger Germans, presented another opera, ‘Peer Gynt,’ based on Ibsen. It was translated into French and played by French artists. Both at the Paris Opéra and the Opéra-Comique a high proportion of the seats was reserved for German officers and their wives.

To attempt, a complete picture of all the musical events which have taken place in Brussels during, the four years of enemy occupation would be futile. Whether on the stage or in the concert hall there is no sphere of musical art with which we have not been in contact; there is no form of music which has not been cultivated, and no symphonic or other musical domain into which we have not penetrated. The people of Brussels are famous consumers of music, and they have appeased their hunger for music from the inexhaustible repertoire.