Central Park Band Concert

gives program 

Program listed.

          “Mr. Dodworth presented quite an attractive programme to the numerous visitors of the Park yesterday” [list of works performed] The Tour of Europe is a pretty and ingenious pot pourri of European national airs. The tourist is supposed to start from Berlin by rail, the locomotive being represented by the usual clashing of the cymbals, accompanying a light trifling sort of galop, which might be profitably left out. Arriving in the Austrian dominions, he compliments the Kaiser with a few bars of the National Anthem, and is succeeded by the horn and whip of the postilion. The Tyrolienne, Ranz des Vaches, &c, bring him through the Tyrol and Switzerland, and a ridiculous imitation of a tarantella , with the stirring Viva l’Italia, reveal the sunny shores of Italy to him. Next follows one of the most beautiful national melodies ever composed, the French Partant pour la Syrie. The sound of the castanets and the sparkling bolero and Gitano bring the traveller across the Pyrenees to the land of the Cid and Don Quixotte. Embarking for Scotland on the ever boisterous Bay of Biscay, the ominous groans of the bass instruments and rattling of the tenor drum denoted a storm, which, at last, convulsed the entire pagoda, and scared several juveniles who had ventured inside the forbidden precincts of the rope despite the stern policemen around. Mr. Dodworth having piloted the traveller and his band through the storms, the musical tourist tarries awhile in the ‘land o’ cakes,’ hears further south the oft-repeated boast that Brittania rules waves, passes through Prussia, Poland and Hungary, and finally takes the ‘back track’ for Berlin. And so ends Conradi’s Tour of Europe. There are many better and many worse ideas of such a subject. The whole piece was like Prussia itself on the map, full of straggling dependencies.  It reminded us irresistibly of the traditional coat of a used up gentleman, composed of pieces of every hue and pattern. The march from the Prophet was spoiled by being too weak, its massive grand and spirited theme being entrusted alternately to a couple of brass and reed instruments. It was but a hollow echo of the Prophet march that we have been accustomed to. The episode of a Night in Paris is very good, the patrol making their rounds, and discovering at every corner new themes for which Kourakin deserves some credit.

          The Park Commissioners have done a great deal with their domain, and that, too, is a short time. If they would only add to the Mall, or its vicinity some establishment in the hotel line, where the numerous visitors could adequately supply the inner man they would render those Saturday concerts still more attractive.  People who run the gauntlet of the cars on their way to the Park like to combine a feast of music with something substantial and less intellectual. The arsenal, too, is in its infancy. There should be Zoological Gardens in the Park, like what they have in Europe, and the Art Museum would by much benefitted if there were less colossal humbugs and more real art in it. Among the thousand visitors there yesterday, we noticed a large proportion of the Ethiopian element.  The ambrosial wool of the down town barber glistened in the scorching rays of the sun, and the formidably developed mouth of his dusky charmer grinned a complaisant assent to his amatory compliments. On the Mall were the usual array of pretty faces, distracting curls, indescribable hats and the latest summer toilettes, according to Le Follet. There were comparatively few carriages on the drive. The number of visitors to the Park this summer is greatly in excess of that of previous years. The concerts are always well attended, the thermometer and the cars to the contrary notwithstanding.”