Vent Those Urges!

It was 1957, and the learned Dr. H. Angus Bowes was presenting a learned paper before a meeting of the Eastern Psychiatric Research Association in Manhattan. The subject: "Psychopathology of the Hi-Fi Addict."

"Naturally," said Dr. Bowes, "the less organized will treat their hi-fi set rather like the emotionally immature treat a car--as an expression of aggression, as a power symbol. To many it has a sexual connotation. Perhaps in the twiddling of knobs there may be a masturbatory equivalent. Certainly the ability to take control of a situation relieves anxiety, and what control is given to the manipulator of a hi-fi apparatus when with the flick of a wrist he may attenuate his treble, emphasize his bass, turn down the volume to a whisper, or blast the neighbors with a Niagara of sound!"

Psychiatrist Bowes, director of the Institute of Neurology and Psychological Medicine in Grand Forks, N. Dak., spoke from intimate experience. At 55, he is undoubtedly one of the most hopeless hi-fi addicts who ever attenuated a treble. Last week, while on vacation in London, he relieved some of his anxieties by hiring 63 off-duty members of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra to record his favorite ballet music from Verdi's Sicilian Vespers and Rossini's William Tell. Bowes first hit on the tape-it-yourself idea while visiting a musician friend who was making a recording. He got fascinated with the possibility of filling in the gaps in his stereo-tape library with his own recordings, and when he learned that a symphony musician could be hired for $50.40 per day in Britain (v. $123.20 in the U.S.), he figured that it was a good buy. After all, there are psychiatric patients who pay that much just for one session on a couch, and for that they don't even get Muzak.

Bowes, who feels that baton waving is one of the best ways to release pent-up urges, began his six-hour recording session by conducting the orchestra in a spirited rendition of God Save the Queen. Then he turned the podium over to BBC Conductor Geoffrey Brand, who whipped the musicians into shape, stepping aside to allow Bowes the therapeutic benefit of conducting a few of the final takes. Total cost: $4,600.

Everyone agreed that it was a jolly good success, and Dr. Bowes, who hopes to release the recording through Britain's Decca record company if the quality is good enough, celebrated by buying a Rolls-Royce for $15,800 to "run around England in." Jack Greene-stone, the orchestra manager who arranged the session, was left nursing a new pent-up urge. Mused he: "I'll wager there are a lot of wealthy Americans who would like to conduct a symphony. It could become the new In Christmas present to give your friends --your own Beethoven's Fifth."

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