SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK

DONALD McLACHLAN

No one, so far as I have noticed, has pointed to the real cause of Mr Greville Wynne's de- cision to expand in a book and in the News of the World the account of his imprisonment by the Russians which he gave in the Sunday Telegraph over two years ago. Publicity, his solicitor told me, had destroyed Mr Wynne's business prospects in that part of Europe he knew best. He needed money not only to live but also to get started again. I gathered that he had no expectations of aid from those who had employed him as a contact man with Penkovsky in Moscow.

I do not know whether agents of the Secret Intelligence Service are entitled to pensions or not. They are, presumably, heavily insured against death and injury; there must be some- where in the City an old MI6 man who can reassure the brokers. But are there any funds for compensating the very temporary civil ser- vant—which is what Mr Wynne seems to have been—whose professional or business life may be destroyed by exposure or denunciation?

I do not expect any public reply to such questions; but they may provoke the Foreign Secretary to inquire what is the answer and to consider whether the association of his de- partment with intelligence work is desirable or necessary. By being made responsible for activities which most of its staff dislike and only half-understand, the Foreign Office is in constant danger of embarrassment or ridicule. Mr Brown would do them a great service by finding ways of transferring the burden to other shoulders.

Plangent

What does a-concert audience expect from the programme notes for which it pays a florin or so? Fine prose inducing a mood for the music? Stunning erudition? Gossip about composer or performer? A reminder of history or a guide to the themes and their development? Ten days' experience in Edinburgh has convinced me that there is no agreement about a standard form. Each writer seemed to have a different idea of the capacity and knowledge of the audience.

My own preference runs as follows. First, a simple description of what to expect, a guide to the form and development of the work, even if it is well known. Then notes on why the composer wrote the work, who paid for it and how much, what the reactions of contem- poraries were, whether the performer brings any special quality to his performance; and, lastly, some authentic anecdotes. I cannot read too often the story of the man for whom Bach's Goldberg Variations were written be- cause he could not sleep.

These will be considered by some people rather lowbrow expectations; but I doubt if highbrows need programme notes at all, except for new or unfamiliar music. I can see no excuse for exhibitionist musicology and pre- tentious phrase-making such as we had in a number of Edinburgh Festival programmes last week. Example (on Stravinsky's Symphony in C Major): 'the four movements observed a sequende of dialectical discussion, light-tex- tured lyricism, dance-inspired vivacity, and purposeful summing-up'; or on that beloved old friend Beethoven's Fifth: If the oboe is in general less handsomely treated than the flute or clarinet, it is offered moments of pin- pointed emphasis where its penetrating and plangent tone suddenly and significantly alters the prevailing colour spectrum'; or on a Bach

Sonata for Flute and Harpsichord: . . re- membering that J. J. Quantz (1697-1773) was the outstanding flautist and flute composer of the age, his views on the appreciation of in- strumental music, as given in his Versuch einer Anweisung die Floete traversiere zu spielen (1752), are worth adding as an envoi.'

A few writers had thought carefully about listeners' needs. One programme note—on Stravinsky's Piano Concerto—consisted entirely of extracts from what the composer himself had written about the work—both instructive and interesting. Another went to great trouble to explain the difference between the modern clarinet and the instrument of Mozart's time —again, interesting and useful before a per- formance of the Quintet. But the general im- pression was of uncertainty about the function of the critic before the performance and of grossly plumped-out prose.

Slow progress

Will the Motor Show this year reveal the in- dustry's progress in making an efficient and cheap electric car, usable for short distances in and around towns, if not for longer jour- neys? Imagine the transformation in a city like Reading or Newcastle or Glasgow—and the miracle to be wrought in London itself— if most of the petrol-driven cars in which people now commute and move around were replaced by silent, odourless saloons.

I first inquired into the difficulties of produc- ing such a car six years ago. First I was told that the size and the weight of the battery could. not be reduced; then that the distance to be covered without recharging was too low; then that big firms were buying up the experi- ments of private inventors and 'forgetting' about them. At each excuse the thought crossed my mind that the motor industry and the oil producers might be holding up progress in the hope that petrol-driven cars could be so improved as to make the electric car seem less desirable; but city editors and motoring correspondents assured me this was not so.

I am now wondering whether my suspicion was right. If so, is not the British motor in- dustry missing a unique opportunity to be first in the international market with something that would make the world's great cities healthy and pleasant to walk, shop and live in?

The press

'There is very little evidence that advertisers have made any systematic attempt to influence the editorial opinion of the newspapers in which they advertise. The effect has been alto- gether more subtle and insidious. Journalists have found themselves compelled, generally speaking, to go along with the euphoric and uncritical world of advertising and public relations.. . . There is also . . . the natural and perhaps understandable tendency of news- papers to concentrate on bad news and by doing so to contribute to a rising spiral of tension.' (Mr George Wigg, Keele University, 8 September.)