Centuries of Sound on Cambridge 105 Radio – Episode 23 (1915)

Iskolai műkedvelő előadás. Fortepan 25839

Time: 8pm BST, Saturday 23rd May 2020
Place: Cambridge 105 Radio

James Errington takes you on another journey into the pre-history of recorded sound – this time joined by Cambridge 105 Radio’s own Alex Elbro to explore the music of 1915, from hot dance ragtime to South-American proto-tango, English music hall comedy and some surprising responses to the first world war.

You could have listened to the show on 105fm in Cambridge, on DAB digital nationwide, on the Cambridge 105 website here, or on any good radio apps. But instead, as you missed it already, you could just listen via this handy mixcloud player.

1915 in Art

Juan Gris – Still Life with Checked Tablecloth

Wyndham Lewis – The Crowd

Marc Chagall – The Poet Reclining

Giorgio de Chirico – The Double Dream of Spring

C. R. W. Nevinson – Bursting Shell

Jean Metzinger – Soldier at a Game of Chess

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner – Self-portrait as a Soldier

C. R. W. Nevinson – La Mitrailleuse

W. L. Wyllie – The Track of Lusitania

Gustav Klimt – Death and Life

Eric Kennington – The Kensingtons at Laventie

Diego Rivera – cubist portrait of Ramón Gómez de la Serna

George Bellows – Riverfront No. 1

Boris Kustodiev – The Beauty

Konstantin Yuon – March Sun

Grace Cossington Smith – The Sock Knitter

Helene Schjerfbeck – Self-portrait with black background

Juan Gris – Still Life with a Poem

Piet Mondrian – Composition No. 10 Pier and Ocean

Albert Gleizes – Composition for ‘Jazz’

Birth of A Nation

Not only is there no defending The Birth of A Nation in 2019, it’s wildly offensive even for 1915. A film made to glorify the Klu Klux Klan by claiming that they saved the USA from (appalling racist caricatures of) unruly black people, it was picketed by the NAACP on release, but was enough of a hit to inspire the real KKK to return from semi-retirement to murder thousands of black people. It would be hard to imagine another film doing as much to harm humanity as a whole, and beyond any other considerations, this should clearly mark it as a bad film.

Inconveniently it’s also a landmark in filmmaking history – not the first feature film, but the one which was big enough to get everyone else making them, and a spectacle so vast and varied that it wouldn’t be matched in scale for decades. Director D.W. Griffith was a leader in the field already, but the release of the film shot him into superstardom, and he took the sleepy Californian community of Hollywood with him.

So I watched Birth of A Nation, all three hours and thirteen minutes of it, to find out if there is anything to salvage.

In terms of writing, no. The script is a hackneyed bunch of racist cliches muddled with sentimental war stories and bad political fantasy. In terms of acting, also no. Lilian Gish puts in some fairly decent work as ever, but the horrible blackface performers undo everything – the public in crowd scenes are no worse than most of the other actors. But in terms of cinematography, in the first half of the film at least, there are some moments of sublime beauty which this piece of trash does not deserve in any way. These don’t really come across in still images, but I’ll try.

Part of it is awe at the scale of everything, but I can’t deny there was some real talent wasted in making this film.

If you want to judge this for yourself, the whole thing is available on Youtube.


If you’re looking for stupid, pointless wastes of human life in the First World War, you really are spoilt for choice, but, even among such inauspicious company, the Gallipoli campaign manages to stand out as particularly stupid and particularly pointless.

To sum up: The Ottoman Empire sort-of-accidentally entered the war on the side of the Germans, the allies were at a complete stalemate and Winston Churchill suggested trying something a bit different. In theory this meant smashing through a passage to Russian Black Sea ports to the Mediterranean, in practice it meant sending shiploads of conscripts to disembark on exposed beaches and get shelled by Turkish soldiers.

One memorable account has a party of British officers arranging a conference with local Ottoman officers, whose first question is “Why are you here and why are you letting us shoot your men?”

Here is an episode of Stuff You Missed In History Class on Gallipoli

Here is an episode of BBC Voices of The First World War with original accounts of Gallipoliand here is part two.

Needless to say, anything on this subject is unlikely to relent in its grimness.

Kafka’s The Trial

I read The Trial and everything else I could find by Kafka while living a couple of tram stops away from his grave in the New Jewish Cemetery in Prague in 2004. The New Jewish Cemetery was opened in 1891 as the Old Jewish Cemetery was full – the vast open space in the lower half of the grounds tells a story more grim than anything found in pre-war fiction. But anyway.

The Trial isn’t my favourite Kafka (that would be The Castle) – but it sums up a lot of what keeps me coming back to his books. What I love most of all is the complete repudiation of free will and meaningfulness in the universe. It’s something many writers play with, but I can think of nobody else who accepts it so completely, and without any sense of melodrama.

Recommended listening: this episode of the BBC Radio 4 show In Our Time

Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss Franz Kafka’s novel of power and alienation ‘The Trial’, in which readers follow the protagonist Joseph K into a bizarre, nightmarish world in which he stands accused of an unknown crime; courts of interrogation convene in obscure tenement buildings; and there seems to be no escape from a crushing, oppressive bureaucracy.

Kafka was a German-speaking Jew who lived in the Czech city of Prague, during the turbulent years which followed the First World War. He spent his days working as a lawyer for an insurance company, but by night he wrote stories and novels considered some of the high points of twentieth century literature. His explorations of power and alienation have chimed with existentialists, Marxists, psychoanalysts, postmodernists – and Radio 4 listeners, who suggested this as our topic for listener week on In Our Time.

And you can buy The Trial here.

Blueprint for Armageddon

If you’re looking for coverage of the First World War in podcast form then the obvious first stopping point is the Blueprint For Armageddon series of Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History podcast, and since I’ve listened to the whole thing, twice, I should really write something about it here. But what exactly? Was it good? Well, yes, I suppose so, it was certainly an immersive, meticulously researched, astonishingly in-depth description of the war, and Dan held my attention through each of its three-hour-plus episodes, but from time to time I did think about how this was a man making a very forceful speech about the deeds of other forceful men from a century ago, and it did seem like an example of much of what is wrong with the world of podcasts. What saved it was Dan’s genuine horror at the scale of suffering, this cut through the form completely and was the reason I listened again. Do I recommend it? Um…

You can hear Blueprint for Armageddon here, though you may have to pay for it, it seems to change from time to time.

BBC Voices of The First World War

Often it seems that the past is artificially kept as a distant country. Concerns over accessibility, commercial interests and worries about keeping things “relevant” and “relatable” mean that primary sources are relegated to secondary concerns. So it was wonderful to listen to this series on BBC Radio 4 which used archive interviews to explore the events of the First World War in the original words of the people who lived through it.

BBC Voices Of The First World War


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“Looking back in hindsight, 1915 appears to be a saga of such horrors, of such mismanagement and muddle, that it is easy to see why it coloured the views of succeeding generations and gave rise to prejudices and myths that have been applied to the whole war. But it was a year of learning. A year of cobbling together, of frustration, of indecision. In a sense a year of innocence. Therein lies its tragedy.” – Lynn Macdonald – 1915: The Death of Innocence

Nobody is likely to make the case for 1915 as a marquee year in the history of recorded music, and, to be frank, I am not going to change anyone’s mind on the issue today. Certainly there is a lot of good music being played, somewhere, the recordings of the next decade didn’t just spring up from thin air, but with the downturn in recording due to the war, coupled with the dissipation of the hot ragtime craze, everything has an odd air of being either too late or too early to the party.

The stars of this mix are in a sense unlike those we’ve encountered before, in that nobody is apparently interested in writing a glowing biography of Eugene Jaudas or Henry Burr. But dare I suggest there is something sort of here? With the bigger names either out of the game (James Reece Europe will be back in 1918) or past their best (even Bert Williams is by this point sounding a little tired of the game, and we don’t even have jazz yet!), acts who would usually be also-rans are given a chance to flourish. Whether they deserve this chance is moot, I at least have them to build a mix around which doesn’t have to sound like it’s going through the motions.

Eugene Jaudas was a bandleader, violin soloist and director of music at Edison Records, and seems to have decided to cash in on the success of Europe’s Society Orchestra by launching his own knock-off version. As might be expected, the frenetic pace and inventiveness have been largely done away with – however in their place there is a very professional sort of energy which works well on its own terms. The transformation of the raw sound of hot ragtime into a formalized pop discipline begins and ends here – in two years everyone will be trying to play jazz instead. Accidentally this fairly cynical cash-in attempt therefore led to music which is more-or-less unique. The mediocre jazz-age Jaudas recordings are evidence that the genre was probably a dead end, but for now this sounds sort of exciting in its own way.

Not all of the artists from 1915 disappeared in the 1920s. Patrick Conway managed to become the leader of a very successful radio orchestra. Novelty vaudeville saxophone group Five Brown Brothers, or even Six Brown Brothers, turned their blackface into clown make-up and retconned themselves (with some justification) as jazz pioneers. And Fred Van Eps, now eclipsing Vess L Ossman as the banjo soloist of choice, continued recording all the way to the 1960s.

All of this may seem beside the point in the year of Galipoli and Ypres, and perhaps it is, but where this human experience resides we have only a void in the audio record. This isn’t to say that the war is not covered here – only that it’s viewed from afar, and with a great deal of suspicion. The biggest hit of 1915 by some counts is I Didn’t Raise My Boy To Be A Soldier, a rehashing of the old sentimental wayward soldier boy trope, with the twist being that he hasn’t gone off to war and he won’t. Not that it stops it being sentimental, of course, but directing such mawk in the direction of pacifism is strangely effective, especially when considering as horrible and pointless a war as this one. We also have the spin-off song, essentially the same deal, titled ‘Don’t Take My Darling Boy”. Some of these same singers would change their minds apparently at the same moment as Woodrow Wilson, whose campaign slogan in the 1916 election was to be “He kept us out of the war.”

Judge for yourself what you think of 1915, but be assured, this world is about to be swept away.


0:00:16 George Formby Snr – All of a Sudden it Struck Me
0:02:38 Miller R. Hutchinson – Transcontinental Telephone Message
0:03:11 Irving Kaufman – Listen to That Dixie Band
0:05:23 Jaudas’ Society Orchestra – Pick a Chicken
0:09:27 National Promenade Band – Paprika
0:11:25 Bert Williams – I’m Neutral
0:12:56 Henry Burr – I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier
0:14:54 Peerless Quartet – I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier
0:15:36 Cal Stewart – War Talk at Punkin Center
0:16:55 Henry Burr & Peerless Quartet – Don’t Take My Darling Boy
0:18:26 Charles Crawford Gorst – Laughing Love
0:19:59 Billy Murray – Which Switch is the Switch, Miss, for Ipswich?
0:21:51 Joe Hayman – Cohen at the Real Estate Office
0:23:08 Joseph A. Phillips – My Lady of the Telephone
0:24:55 Patrick Conway’s Band – Ragging the Scale
0:27:50 Five Brown Brothers – Independentia and Billboard
0:29:49 Bahiano – O Meu Boi Morreu
0:32:25 Dúo Ruiz Acuña – Corazones Partidos
0:35:03 María Conesa – Ni Una Palabra Más (2ª Parte)
0:37:09 David K.Kaili & Pale K. Lua – Honolulu March
0:39:43 Fred Van Eps Banjo – Omena Intermezzo
0:42:37 Harry E. Humphrey – An Old Sweetheart of Mine
0:42:59 Isidore Moskowitz – a Flower of Italy
0:45:48 Harry E. Humphrey – Antony’s Address Over the Body of Caesar
0:46:02 Sangit Vidyarnab Gopeswar Banerjee – Sitar Instrumental- Kafi Tetala
0:48:29 Abe Elenkrig’s Yidishe Orchestra – Nit Ba Motin
0:50:21 Vladimir Mayakovsky – Naval Romance
0:50:33 Victor Military Band – Booster Box Trot
0:53:05 Six Brown Brothers – Chicken Reel Comedy Medley
0:54:46 Ada Reeve – Foolish Questions
0:57:37 Collins & Harlan – Mississippi Barbecue
0:59:26 Cal Stewart – Uncle Josh in a Barber Shop
1:00:11 Harry Fay – They All Do the Charlie Chaplin Walk
1:01:44 Eugene Jaudas Society Orchestra – Carnival One Step
1:03:18 Guido Deiro – Put Me to Sleep With an Old-Fashioned Melody
1:04:44 Bert Williams – Indoor Sports
1:06:19 Right Quintette – Exhortation
1:09:30 Enrico Caruso – Cielo Turchino (Ciociano)
1:11:51 Arvid Paulson – Karolinas Tråkigheter
1:11:58 The Premier Quartet – Moonlight Bay
1:13:57 Vess Ossman’s Banjo Orchestra – Universal Fox Trot
1:15:39 George Formby Snr – All of a Sudden it Struck Me (Outro)

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