In reply to yesterday's "Music Box.": "Swing" never did mean to say that all classical-music lovers disdain all forms of popular music, though "Swing" did try to infer that their training frequently inhibits their ability to understand jazz. In spite of Mr. Flint's gratifying knowledge of jazz, he is by far the exception, not the rule.

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When competent musicians are fired for playing two sour notes, there is no decent reason why a female vocalist should get by with singing like a crow. There are plenty of other reasons, but they count for little on a record. Every musician in the late Glenn Miller's band was expert, yet the firing rate was tremendous. Marion Hutton couldn't hit a note with a sledge-hammer, yet she sang with Miller for over four years. Few will deny that Marion was a highly desirable little morsel. She had, moreover, a prodigious personality that carried her over long after the initial shock of her sex appeal wore off. There never was any reason, however, to preserve her art on records for posterity.

Or take the present darling, Dinah Shore. She is undoubtedly a far more capable singer than Hutton, especially in projecting her personality through radio and records. In the main, though, hers is a very limited and pedestrian talent compared with even the average swing musician's. Dinah's best interpretations are expressly designed for romance, and she is more than adept. Other times she signs pleasantly, if that well. If you like her, fine. But if you can listen to Benny Goodman, can separate the slag from the gold, and still like Dinah, your standards are inconsistent.

Pure sex-appeal gets tiresome, consequently the enormous turnover of female singers in bands. How many really miss Martha Tilton, Edythe Wright or Connie Haines? And when Dinah Shore gets out of her element and tries to sing "Mississippi Mud," the handwriting is on the wall. Dinah may be able to stave off the ash-can for as long as five years; Hollywood may help. Unless she develops a more positive personality and style, however, she is a goner for sure.

Chances are you've never heard of "Mississippi Mud." By way of explanation, Paul Whiteman's version of it was the rage of the late twenties, for Bix Beiderbecke's cornet solo and the Rhythm Boys' singing. Beyond a doubt Dinah took her cue from the record, but no one who has heard it will be surprised to know that she loused up the song good and plenty. In spite of all her speeches about how she learned to sing by listening to the Negroes back home, da-own Sa-outh, Dinah's singing has very little of the true Negro spirit. For one of the first issues of the now-defunet Music and Rhythm, Dinah wrote a gorgeous little article about the Mississippi, the steamboats a chuggin', and the blues go rollin' on forever. Merely the fact that she has never once mentioned listening to Beside Smith should tip you off.

And who was Bessic Smith? She was a big colored woman, with a voice like a mellow foghorn, a range of two notes, and a heart as big as humanity. Bessie is, indeed, the epitome of all that is good in jazz. To the uninitiated, she couldn't possibly stack up alongside Dinah. Certainly Dinah is far easier to listen to. But when you take the time to listen to Bessic, you soon find out Dinah's is the one who can't do the stacking.

You also find that where Dinah is subtle and suggestive about sex, Bessic is blatant and forth-right. Only Bessic rises above mere worlds to give full expression to the hopes and woes of her environment. You can stand the infamous "Empty Bed Biues" because Bessic's vitality and spirit make the song much more than a piece of filth. You can't stand Dinah's "You Made Me Love You." because her shallowness can't even cope with the mild suggestiveness of the lyrics.