WITH reference to Bill Hearld's feature on whistling, or rather the lack of it (The Press, April 25), I believe I may be from the same generation as his late dad, living in an era when tunes were musical, could be carried in the mind, and were "whistle-able".

From the 1970s tunes became less and less recognisable until, today, we have an unrecognisable cacophony of noise, which sounds as though it has been produced by a bunch of drunken monkeys let loose in a scrap metal yard. It has no identifiable tune, no rhythm and no firm tempo.

Try whistling to some of what passes for music today and you could be doing yourself a serious mischief.

A Dobinson,

Askham Lane, Acomb, York.

Updated: 09:51 Thursday, April 27, 2006