Ernest Walker on Elgar Part II

I posted the other day a frank critique of Edward Elgar’s music by the critic and composer Ernest Walker – it was not exactly disparaging, but neither was it sycophantic. Just to even up the balance a little bit I post the previous section of Walker’s comments on the composer.  No commentary is needed; however, I have taken the liberty of breaking up one or two of his tediously long sentences, including one of over 140 words!

Few things in the history of modern music are more remarkable than Elgar's sudden leap into something like worldwide fame; indeed, no composer has had an artistic career like his. Like Berlioz, his nearest parallel, he is free-lance, self-taught, and influenced very slightly by the current traditions of his time; but unlike Berlioz, whose work is all of a piece from the very start, Elgar began on lines almost entirely alien to his later methods. All composers, even the greatest, have of course written relatively inferior (often very inferior) work at some period or other; and some have only for the first time found themselves artistically in middle life, like Wagner, or in old age, like Verdi. But Elgar, till he was considerably over thirty years of age, was known chiefly by, so to speak, ‘smart society’ music: the Salut d'amour kind of production that seeks and finds its reward in the West End drawing-room, clever and shallow and artistically quite unpromising. Even in the days of his high fame, he has had (at any rate for a time) the heavy millstone of aristocratic fashionableness hanging round his neck, and may over and over again well have prayed to be delivered from his friends. Indeed, there was no particular reason for any one to prophesy any special future for him. In the best work of the transition period there were no doubt points of interest of various kinds: the pleasant picturesqueness of The Black Knight and the Serenade for strings, several parts of King Olaf (especially the powerful 'Challenge of Thor'), and the very fine sombre 'Lament' in Caractacus. [However]…these were so much overbalanced by things like the conscientious sentimentality of the great bulk (though not indeed all) of the The Light of Life, the rather blatant hardness of the last section of The Banner of St. George and the Imperial March, and the superficial appeal of the salon music, that it seemed decidedly doubtful whether the obvious talent would ever result in anything really vital. It was not until 1899 that Elgar found his fully individual method of expression in some fine Sea Pictures for contralto and orchestra, and in an astonishingly subtle and imaginative set of orchestral variations (which very many musicians are still inclined to consider his best work). The Dream of Gerontius, in which the new style was first shown on an extended scale, had to wait some time for its second performance, and three years before it was heard in London, but after its great success in Germany its composer's popularity swelled rapidly to enormous proportions.

It was fairly obvious from the start that the movement, which began in London with the performance of The Dream of Gerontius at the Westminster Catholic Cathedral in 1903, was to some extent of a merely evanescent character; and the comparatively cool reception accorded to The Kingdom, which is certainly by no means inferior to Elgar's other mature works, seems to show that it has already nearly spent itself, as was bound sooner or later to be the case. But although pessimistic voices are heard prophesying that Elgar will find his level by the side of people like the composers of The Redemption or The Resurrection of Lazarus, yet the reality would seem to be far otherwise. Elgar is too great a composer not to be able to come out at the other side of his trying experiences as Gounod and Lorenzo Perosi (the priest-musician who, after being urged upon Europe with the whole driving force of the Roman Church, was dropped just at the beginning of Elgar's popularity) were certainly not able to do.

Apart from a certain number of small works, either several years old or written in imitation of earlier models, Elgar has, since 1899, published nothing which does not bear his own characteristic sign-manual; and in slender productions like the Greek Anthology lyrics for male voices or other similarly most remarkable part-songs like 'Weary wind of the west' or 'Evening scene' the individual vitality of utterance is quite as conspicuous as in the large choral works or orchestral compositions such as the In the South overture.

In feeling for colour colour of every conceivable kind Elgar is surpassed by no living composer, English or foreign, and as an orchestrator he is among the very greatest in musical history; his melodies and harmonies are always his own and sometimes very beautiful, and he shows, like his contemporary and great admirer, Richard Strauss, a singular power of reaching the essence of the words he chooses to set especially when they give opportunity for the expression of emotional drama or religious feeling in the terms of mystical but modern Catholicism.

The sort of entrancing unearthly charm of such music as the songs of the Angel in Gerontius or the setting of the Beatitudes in The Apostles is without parallel in English work; it is wonderfully subtle and intimate, and yet the appeal which it makes, is very direct. He threads the mazes of the most elaborate polyphony with easy assurance, vividness and courage: modernity inspire every page of the works by which he bids fair to live.

Ernest Walker The History of English Music, 1907 (with minor edits)

Fugues and Chess

Many are the musical prodigies who come before the public, though but few of them reach the great heights of musicianship of which they, in their youth, give promise. Handel, Mozart, and Liszt fulfilled the expectations aroused by their youthful feats.

Among those whose fame was not so great was Walter Parratt, who was knighted by Queen Victoria. He played the organ in a Yorkshire church when only seven years old. At ten he performed all of Bach's forty-eight preludes and fugues without the music before him, and in later life he accomplished the extraordinary feat of playing, blindfolded, three games of chess and one  of Bach's fugues at the same time, manipulating the keys of the organ and calling out his moves on the chess-board simultaneously.

From Anecdotes of Great Composers W. Francis Gates 1897

Don Banks: Coney Island

I recently had the pleasure of reviewing one of the latest editions to the Guild’s Golden Age of Light Music series – Stereo into the Sixties. The full review will appear on this ‘blog’ and on MusicWeb International in due course. However, whilst listening to the various excellent arrangements of Gershwin, Kern and Porter I came across two excellent ‘original’ compositions. These were Ron Goodwin’s London Serenade and Don Banks’ Coney Island.

Donald (Don) Oscar Banks (1923-1980) was an Australian composer who is probably best known for his ‘serious’ compositions which sometimes made use of serial technique and and experiments with electronic media including the Moog Synthesiser.  However, his career included considerable contributions to the worlds of jazz, commercial recordings and film music.  His musical mentors included Milton Babbitt, Luigi Dallapiccola and Luigi Nono.  When in London, he studied with the exiled Hungarian composer, Mátyás Seiber. It was through Seiber that he was introduced to the world of film music – specialising in cartoons and Hammer Horror films.  Many folk will have heard Don Banks’ music without recognising the name or his wider interests.

Don Banks’ vision vision of Coney Island suggests all the romance of a day at Coney Island -probably in the nineteen-fifties.  Certainly the last time I was there, it was a shadow of it former self, yet still exuding a certain excitement and and faded glory. The fundamental ethos of this work is surely of one pair of lovers enjoying the funfair and another pair who watch the proceedings from the boardwalk or from a quiet bar.

The work opens with a brash, brassy passage that defines the razzmatazz of the funfair. However, this is soon balanced by a lovely romantic tune for the strings, which is frequently interrupted by rhythmical brass chords. A short bridge passage highlighting the harp leads to a slightly more relaxed dance tune.  After a brass fanfare, some scurrying ‘cartoon’ music featuring woodwind, xylophone and glockenspiel dissolve into a smoky, saxophone dominated nocturne as the lovers watch the neon lights of the funfair from the beach. Sweeping strings and a romantic melody lead to a reprise of the opening music. An energetic coda re-establishes the mood of excitement and faux terror of the big rides.

The present recording was made in 1961, was in stereo and was played by The Sinfonia of London, conducted by Douglas Gamley. Coney Island is available on Guild GLCD 5192.  A short extract can be heard on the Guild Website. For the cognoscenti the work was first released on a LP entitled Musical merry-go-round (World Club Records STE-275) which contained works by Jacques Ibert, Igor Stravinsky, Oscar Strauss, Richard Rogers and Henri Sauget. All the works on this LP evoked the circus or ‘all the fun of the fair.’ 

Ernest Walker on Sir Edward Elgar

It is sometimes useful to read a less than positive review of one of the ‘great’ composers. I am a fan of Elgar’ and have been since first hearing Sospiri and the Introduction and Allegro on some old 78rpm discs which I found in the school music room cupboard. I still have a re-recording of these two works made on what was then the new technology of cassette tape!

However, I have never become an Elgar groupie. There are elements of his music that I just do not appreciate. Even the symphonies I can sometimes find to be a little long winded in places. I hold up my hand and admit that I have never really got ‘into’ the oratorios. And finally, although I count myself as patriotic as the next person, I cannot get my head round works such as The Crown of India, Polonia and some of the other Great War works.

Before someone suggests that I do not like any Elgar, I will list my top five ‘hits’- not in any order of preference – Violin Concerto, In the South, Introduction and Allegro, the Violin Sonata and the Enigma Variations. Furthermore, I tend towards the lighter Elgar (Mina, Chanson de Nuit etc.), rather than the vast amount of his choral music.

That being said, I post part of Ernest Walker’s 1907 critique of the composer. Perhaps I will present the more positive side to review this later. There is no need for commentary.

We cannot help noticing here and there a lack of sustained thematic inventiveness, a deficiency in the power of broadly organic construction; even when, in a way, quite original, the material sometimes consists of scraps of music, neither individually nor collectively of any particular interest beyond mere colour, joined together by methods not altogether convincing. Occasionally also there seems an undue reliance on a rather hot-house type of emotionalism, that every now and then comes near degenerating into a somewhat forced pseudo-impressiveness; the melodramatic bars that depict the suicide of Judas in The Apostles set on edge the teeth of listeners who have felt to the full the dramatic power of the pages that precede them, and there are parts of Gerontius' confession of faith that, though sincere, nevertheless suggest an atmosphere of artificial flowers.

Sometimes the splendour of the frame tends to hide the picture; and in the picture itself, when we do see it, the gorgeous colour tends to hide the drawing. His most inspired pages excepted, it is not altogether paradoxical to say that even the later Elgar is a light composer compared with the classics; the relatively sensuous elements seem often to be the main consideration, and it is very rarely that he shows anything of the bracing sternness that lies at the root of the supreme music of the world. The path of picturesque emotionalism is beset with snares, and Elgar has not escaped them every one; but, when all is said, an unmistakably new and living voice of high genius is something for which we must needs be lastingly grateful, and remembering his astounding progress in the past ten years we cannot but believe that there is still a further future before this youngest of our leaders.

Ernest Walker A History of Music in England 1907

Ian Venables: The Hippo

A very, very short post today. I was delighted to find this lovely song from the pen of the English composer Ian Venables on YouTube.

Theodore Roethke’s charming and wistful poem ‘The Hippo’ is given an appropriate setting that matches the tongue in cheek sentiment of the author. Roethke (1908-1963) was an American poet who wrote “an extraordinarily diverse and lyrical body of poetry. He could be sombre or playful, surrealistic or erotic or romantic, or many of these things at once.”

Graham Lloyd notes the pause on the word ‘yawn’ in ‘...he starts to yawn, it takes all day.’ Perhaps the music is a little bit more melancholy than the spirit of the poem demands. Yet from a listener’s point of view this is a near perfect matching of text and music. The song was composed in 2003 and received its first performance that year at the Royal Grammar School in Worcester with Nathan Vale as soloist and Paul Plummer on the piano. The Hippo is the last of Venables’ Six Songs Op.33.

The mezzo soprano Sally Porter-Munro and pianist Graham Fitch give a superb performance of this song. It was part of a concert given at The Royal Grammar School, Worcester, on July 23rd, 2011.

Listen to Ian Venables’ ‘The Hippo’ on YouTube.

The Complete C.W. Orr Songbook-Volume 1

Charles Wilfred Orr (1893-1976)

Seven Songs from ‘A Shropshire Lad: Along the field, When I watch the living meet, The Lent lily, Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Oh fair enough are sky and plain, Hughley Steeple, When smoke stood up from Ludlow (1927-1931)  Silent Noon (1921) Tryste Noel (1927) The Brewer’s Man (1927) Two Seventeenth Century Poems: The Earl of Bristol’s farewell, Whenas I wake (1927-28) Slumber Song (published 1937) Fain would I change that note (published 1937) When the lad for longing sighs (1921) The Carpenter’s Son (1921-22) When I was one-and-twenty (1924) Soldier from the wars returning (1928) When summer’s end is nighing (?) Two Songs from A Shropshire Lad: ’Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town, Loveliest of trees, the cherry (1921-22)

Mark Stone (baritone) Simon Lepper (piano)

STONE RECORDS 5060192780123

I have had to wait a long time for this project to be realised. Certainly, I heard my first song by Charles Wilfred Orr some 40 years ago. It was a setting of A.E. Housman’s great poem, ‘When I was one-and-twenty.’ Over the years I have heard other songs included in recitals and featuring on records, tapes and CDs. With the publication of Jane Wilson’s excellent study of the composer, C.W. Orr – the unknown song-composer, the complete extent of the song-setting has become clear.  Conventional wisdom, up to that point, suggested that Orr had only chosen to set Housman’s poems. However, it soon became clear that although that poet did feature often in his song settings, there was a wide variety of other texts and poets. There are some 36 songs listed in the catalogue. Out of these there are some 22 settings of Housman. Other writers include Helen Waddell, Arthur Waley, D.G Rossetti, James Joyce and Robert Bridges.  Additionally, the catalogue listed three choral settings and two instrumental works – one the Cotswold Hill Tune for string orchestra and the Midsummer Dance for ‘cello and piano. More about that Dance and the choral pieces below.

It is not really necessary to give a biography of the composer in this review. However one or two brief points may be of help to someone coming to these songs for the first time.  Charles Wilfred Leslie Orr was born in Cheltenham in 1893. He studied the piano privately. Unfortunately, the Great War interrupted his plans for a formal musical education.  After the war he entered the Guildhall School of Music and studied composition.  The second point of importance is his meeting with Fred. Delius, who was impressed with Orr’s music and acted as a mentor to him.  He also met Peter Warlock who helped get his first songs published. Most of Orr’s setting were written before the Second World War, a few were composed in the ‘forties and ‘fifties, however he was musically silent between the Midsummer Dance of 1957 and his death some nineteen years later. Orr lived in Painswick, in Gloucestershire with his wife from 1929 until his death in 1976.

In later years the composer was somewhat bitter at the lack of recognition he had received. In 1974 he wrote that ‘…I have always been more or less ignored by the BBC…so it is nothing new…to be regarded as not worth performing, but all the same it is a bit disheartening to be cold-shouldered in one’s own country…’

C.W. Orr’s musical style not unnaturally owes much to Delius. However, as a young man he had studied and enjoyed the songs of Hugo Wolf and Johannes Brahms: these influences are never far away. Yet, as one critic put it, Orr was ‘no slavish imitator of any man’s work.’ Each poem that he chose to set created a mood in the composer’s mind that allowed him to create a perfect partnership between words and music. There is a huge difference in style between the lyrical beauty of Rossetti’ ‘Silent Noon’ and the dramatic almost violent sound of Housman’s ‘The Carpenter’s Song’. 

The present CD, which is Volume 1 of a projected two-disc set, has 21 song tracks. So I wonder what the second volume is going to be filled up with. It may be that there are a number of other songs that have been discovered since Jane Wilson’s book as published.

The recital opens with what is probably Orr’s best known song-cycle Seven Songs from ‘A Shropshire Lad.  These songs were composed between 1927 and 1931. ‘Along the Field’ is impressionistic in its effect. ‘When I watch the living meet’, is a meditation of someone looking forward to the calm of death. It is a brooding song. ‘The Lent Lily’ has a romantic ‘exuberant’ piano part. It is my favourite song of this group. The disturbing subject matter of fratricide is reflected in the powerful musical setting of ‘Farewell to barn and stack.’ The gentler, but equally troubling song ‘Oh fair enough are sky and plain’ is actually quite positive, bearing in mind the subject matter is suicide. ‘Hughley Steeple’, in spite of the fact the church had a tower and not a steeple, is a reflective number that matches the thoughts of the Shropshire Lad in the graveyard.  The final song of this cycle is the bouncy ‘When smoke stood up from Ludlow’: there is almost a folk-song feel to this song. All these poems have been set many times by English composers; however, Orr’s ‘takes’ are effective. I believe that these are some of the finest settings in the repertoire.

‘Tryst Noel’ is a thoughtful number that is really a little parody on a medieval carol. This is one of the darker songs in the present collection. The Two Seventeenth Century Poems are particularly memorable: these love songs are expressive and a little gloomy in their sentiment.  The Earl of Bristol’s Farewell is sad and reflective, with some interesting chromatic harmonies. ‘Wheneas I wake is a short song that again considers the emotion of absence. It builds to an impressive climax before a short piano postlude ends the song.

Orr’s first Housman setting was ‘When the lad for longing sighs.’ It was one of six songs, which the composer sent to Peter Warlock for his approval. This is a well-written song that fuses the poet’s words with the music. It is not surprising that Warlock was impressed with it.

‘When I was one and twenty’ is one of Housman’s less disturbing poems. In fact it is really quite amusing. This setting balances folksong in the first and art song in the second verse. This is one of the most effective settings of this poem in the repertoire.  

The CD concludes with Two Songs from ‘A Shropshire Lad.’ These were composed in 1921/22 when the composer was on holiday in the south of France. However, images and recollections of the ‘Land of Lost Content’ were never far from his mind. These songs epitomise that connection between landscape and music that has proved so elusive to many composers but was achievable by Orr. The first song is ‘Tis time, I think by Wenlock Town’ which is a celebration of the arrival of spring. Orr makes use of a bell-like motif throughout the song. My favourite Housman lines are delightfully set – ‘Spring will not wait the loiterer’s time/Who keeps so long away’. Delius is never far away from this song with its delicious shifting harmonies.  

Many composers have set ‘Loveliest of Trees’, including Muriel Herbert, Graham Peel and Janet Hamilton. However, the  musical touchstone must be George Butterworth’s masterpiece. It is not appropriate to suggest that Orr’s setting is better or worse: it is another excellent addition to the repertoire. This song is contemplative, ideally fitting words to music and communicating the poet’s sense of the transience of life.

I am not sure what the point is of providing Orr’s Midsummer Dance for cello and piano with words from Housman’s Last Poems. I do not care if the result of ‘When summer’s end is nighing’ is effective or not: it is just that it seems odd. I would much rather they had recorded the original piece, even though it would if been outside the remit of this CD.  The Dance was written in 1957 and was dedicated to the cellist Penelope Lynex, the daughter of the composer’s friend Richard Lynex.  All things said, I think this setting is awful: it just does not work. I believe that it does no justice to Orr’s genius.

Neither am I convinced by the inclusion of the three songs that are usually classified as choral music: ‘The Brewer’s Man’, ‘Slumber Song’ and ‘Fain would I change that note’.  It could well be that Orr produced versions for baritone and piano, however they are not included in the catalogue of his music provided in Jane Wilson’s biography of the composer.  ‘The Brewer’s Man’ was a big gutsy song written for the baritone John Goss. However the original version included a two-part choir.  It is a setting of a poem by the Plymouth born poet Leonard Alfred George Strong.  The second choral piece is ‘Slumber Song’ to a text by Noel Lindsay.  This time the work was written for choir and piano.  It is a lovely reflective tune, that complements the dreamy words and imagery of moon, millwheel and dreams of yesteryear. Finally, ‘Fain would I change the note’, was originally conceived for three-part choir and piano. This a powerful four-square tune that fits surpisingly well with the thought that ‘Love is the perfect sum/ Of all delight.’

I enjoyed this CD –with the caveats noted above. It was good to hear a number of songs by C.W. Orr that I have never heard before. Mark Stone, baritone and Simon Lepper, pianist perform all these songs with feeling and enthusiasm. They have a deep sympathy for the composer’s style and the texts, which he has set.  

The liner notes are excellent and include the first part of an essay about the composer which explains ‘the creation of a song-writer.’ It is essential reading for all listeners to this CD, and I suggest that it is read before putting the CD into the player. Each song has a short programme note and includes the text.

This CD will appeal to all lovers of English Song. It is an important release that will encourage more performances and further study of these beautiful songs. 

 With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published

William Sterndale Bennett: a portrait by George Alexander Macfarren

Born in Sheffield, April 13, 1810, where his father, Robert Bennett, was organist. He is conspicuous in the musical history of the present period, as having, by his unswerving fidelity to the loftiest principles of his art, and still more by his natural and highly refined ability to embody these in his works, been effectively instrumental in raising the standard of music in this country, and in gaining consideration for the earnest pretensions of English music abroad. We may suppose that the occupation of his father tended to the immediate development of his organization; but, becoming an orphan at three years old, he derived nothing from his parent's musical pursuits, save the inestimable advantage of this early impression. At his father's death, he was removed to the care of his grandfather at Cambridge, where in 1824 he entered the choir of King's College Chapel. Already he gave proof of an uncommon aptitude for music; so strong, that two years afterwards he was taken from this institution to be placed in the Royal Academy of Music in London. Passing through the classes of Mr Lucas and Dr. Crotch for composition, and of Mr W. H. Holmes for the pianoforte, he became the pupil of Mr Potter in both these departments, whose entire merit it is to have fully developed the remarkable talent they had prepared for his care,—fully developed, because it was while yet under his direction, that Bennett produced some of the works which most honour his name, no less admirable for maturity of style than freshness of invention; and while yet under his direction, he attained the excellence as a pianist which won him the esteem he still maintains. Among his academical productions which have not appeared in print, an overture to the Tempest and two symphonies must be named as possessing great interest. Prior even to these he wrote his Concerto in D minor, in 1832, the rare merit of which attracted general attention to the young composer. He played it at the prize concert of the academy at midsummer, 1833, when Mendelssohn was present, who, quick to appreciate the indications in the music and its performance of approaching excellence, gave Bennett such warm encouragement as true genius only can extend.

The academy committee paid the cost of publishing this first concerto for the author's advantage, and thus conferred an equal benefit on their institution in the credit the scholar reflected on the school. The Concerto in E flat, a production of the ensuing autumn, shows no longer the immediate effect upon the composer's mind of the classic masterpieces which, with him as with every genuine artist, were the seeds of his originality ; but the decided style manifest in this work shows the now indirect influence of the great models, from a perfect knowledge of which alone can result a mastery of the principles of construction which have been unfolded through successive generations, and a freedom in the employment of resources, which, being accumulated from all, are common to all that have the power to appropriate them.

His overture to the Merry Wives of Windsor, still unpublished, is a work of charming freshness,  which preceded the composition in 1834 of that to Parisina ; the depth of feeling, the flow of ideas, and their skilful arrangement that distinguished this last named, associate it with the highest productions of its class.

The Concerto in C minor, another fruit of this fertile year, has all the characteristics of classicality; the stately breadth of the first movement, the dreamy mystery of the andante, and the fire of the finale, are throughout entirely individual to the author; but the merit of the whole is common to this and to the best extant works of its kind. At one of the early concerts of the then promising society of British musicians in this same year, Bennett played his second concerto, and he thus gained such general acknowledgment, that the Philharmonic directors engaged him to repeat the performance at the first concert of their following season, when his success was most triumphant. The next year was occupied with productions of less importance, though, perhaps, of more extensive popularity; but in 1836 an unprinted concerto in F minor, and the fanciful and graceful overture, The Naiades (the work of his which is most played in public), brought him again before the highest musical tribunals. It was now at the suggestion of Mr Attwood that the munificent firm of Broadwood, who  have done more for the advancement of music through the encouragement of musicians in this country, than any other individual or institution has effected, offered to defray Bennett's expenses for a year's residence in Leipzig, where, by constant intercourse with Mendelssohn, by constant opportunity of enlarging his experience, and by constant occasion for exercising his powers, he might improve himself and extend his reputation. He accordingly quitted the academy of which he was still an inmate, and went to establish his and his country's character in the city which then, from a combination of circumstances, possessed more advantages for a musician than at this time any place in the world affords.

Returning in the autumn of 1837, he left a name of which, perhaps, the highest acknowledgment is the attempt on the part of some shallow critics to traduce it. Repeated successes as a pianist, and the production of some of his best chamber works, fill up his history till 1840. He then wrote another concerto in F minor (that which is published), and so created such a rival to its predecessor in C minor, as few writers could have produced. He now spent another twelvemonth in Leipzig, confirming the impression of his former visit. Here he wrote his Caprice in E for pianoforte and orchestra, and his overture The Wood Nymphs which fully sustain the high character of his best productions.

In 1843 be gave his first series of chamber concerts, which were continued annually till 1856, and brought his merit as a player periodically under public notice. In 1844, he competed for the musical professorship in the University of Edinburgh against several candidates, of whom Mr Hugh Pierson  was elected. In 1849, Bennett founded the Bach Society, for the study and performance of the music of the master after whom it is named, and is still the chairman and conductor of this institution. Nothing that may be cited within the present limits marks the career of this musician until 1856, when he was engaged as permanent conductor of the concerts of the Philharmonic Society. In this same year he was elected by an overwhelming majority to the musical chair in the University of Cambridge, to which locality his early associations, and his fulfilment of the highest hopes that can have been entertained of him, strongly endear him: subsequently to that, he was created doctor of music by this seminary of learning.

As an executant, Bennett is characterized by beautiful mechanism, exquisite grace, and that singing style, which is the strongest link of sympathy between a player and his audience. As a composer, it is fashionable with some to accuse him of imitating Mendelssohn, by which they prove their utter ignorance of his music. He has fancy, he has feeling, he has fire, and, most of all, he has a peculiar grace which distinguishes no less his phraseology than the turning of his ornamental passages, and all these are manifested in a manner as individual to himself, as is that of any artist possessing the traits which constitute a style. This individuality is as obvious in his ‘Fountain’, in his ‘Genevieve’, in his rondo ‘Piacevole’, in his song, ‘To Chloe in sickness’, as in any of his larger works; it consists, first, in his original train of thought ; second, in his command of resources, which enables him to mould his ideas at will. They who appreciate him the highest blame him the most, that during the last  fifteen years be has almost entirely ceased to compose ; and candour must admit the scanty productions of this long period want the merit, when they even have the pretensions, of those admirable earlier works, of which he and his country have just reason to be proud. The lesser interest of these later productions may, perhaps, be ascribed to his having lost the spontaneous vigour of youthful impulse, without replacing it with the fluency which results from habit and the intensity that is given by concentration; and his deficiency in both these is extenuatingly referred to his excessive occupation in teaching.

George Alexander Macfarren THE IMPERIAL DICTIONARY OF UNIVERSAL BIOGRAPHY: A SERIES OF ORIGINAL MEMOIRS [minor edits]

The Film Music of Arthur Benjamin and Leighton Lucas

Arthur BENJAMIN (1893-1960)

Suite from The Conquest of Everest (1953) The Storm Clouds Cantata from The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) Waltz and Hyde Park Galop from An Ideal Husband (1947) Leighton LUCAS (1903-1982)

Portrait of the Amethyst from Yangtse Incident (1957) Dedication from Portrait of Clare (1950) Prelude and Dam Blast from The Dam Busters (1954) Stage Fright Rhapsody from Stage Fright (1950) Suite from Ice Cold in Alex (1958) This Is York (1953) March-Prelude from Target for Tonight (1941) Abigail Sara (mezzo); Rob Court (organ)

Côr Caerdydd/Adrian Partington; Gwawr Owen

BBC National Orchestra of Wales/Rumon Gamba

Full Track-List at end of review

Virtually every music lover has heard Arthur Benjamin’s Jamaican Rumba in one of its many guises. Fewer, alas, will have engaged with his orchestral and chamber works. However recent releases from Dutton Epoch and Lyrita have brought to the attention of the public a number of important works which have redefined the composer as being much more than a ‘one hit wonder.’  However, a significant part of Benjamin’s music has been in the public domain for many years, although relatively few folk will have equated them together. Benjamin was an important and prolific film music composer.  Beginning in 1934 with the score for the production of The Scarlet Pimpernel starring Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon he composed the music for some twenty films.  These included Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man who knew too much (1934/1956) Alexander Korder’s An Ideal Husband (1947), Above us the Waves (1956) and A Tale of Two Cities (1959/60). Amongst the many scores Benjamin composed for ‘shorts’ and documentaries were Steps of the Ballet, This Modern Age and The Conquest of Everest. Some of these have become classics and others have disappeared into the archives and may be given occasional airings. Unfortunately, few of his film music scores have survived.

A detailed biography of the composer by Pamela Blevins can be found on MusicWeb International. Save to say Arthur Benjamin was born in Sydney Australia in 1903 and died in London in 1960.

The first tranche of music presented on this CD is the derived from the supremely optimistic score for The Conquest of Everest: this has been realised as a suite by Marcus A. Caratelli. The original documentary was made to celebrate the reaching of the summit in Coronation Year (1953) by Sir Edmund Hilary and Tenzing Norgay. The film considered the various attempts made over the years to conquer the mountain. The present Suite has touches of Vaughan Williams, William Walton and, as Rob Barnett has pointed out Korngold. It is really all ‘Boys Own’ stuff.  

The next Benjamin score is from the 1934 film The Man who knew too much starring Edna Best, Leslie Banks and Peter Lorre.  The story is about a man and his wife who received information about an assassination attempt on a VIP. However, they soon discover that their daughter has been kidnapped to keep them quiet. The present extract is the Storm Cantata which occurs at the climax of the film.  Rob Barnett has noted the influence of William Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast which was first heard three years previously. In the 1956 remake of the film, the composer Bernard Hermann retained this music in his own score.

The two short extracts from Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband (1947) conclude the exploration of Arthur Benjamin’s film music. The ‘Waltz’ is a lovely example of the genre that is more English than Viennese. The ‘Galop’ is pure fun: it is used as a kind of leitmotif whenever Hyde Park appears in the film. It is a fine romp. These two pieces were salvaged by the composer from the film score and were re-presented for the concert hall.

What is true for Arthur Benjamin’s reputation is even more pertinent to the almost totally forgotten Leighton Lucas. I first came to his music through the fine brass band piece Symphonic Suite for Brass Band, which in my opinion is a masterpiece. Other sporadic CD releases presented his Oboe Concerto and his ballet suite Ballet de la reine. Amongst his symphonic repertoire which remains to be discovered are the Sonatina concertante for saxophone and orchestra (1939) the Suite française (1940) and a Cello Concertino dating from 1956. However a brief look at the Internet Movie Database shows that he wrote the music for twenty one films. Many of them are ‘household names’ such as Stage Fright, Ice Cold in Alex, Target for Tonight and the Yangtse Incident. He also composed the music to a number of documentary films including the evocative This is York.

For the curious, Leighton Lucas was born in 1903 and came to prominence as a member of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russe (1918-21) and at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre a couple of years later. His main occupation was conducting. After war service in the Royal Air Force he continued his career of composing and conducting alongside educational work with the BBC.  He died in London in 1982. A certain generation will recall, unwittingly perhaps, his title music for the radio series Just William.

The first score from Leighton Lucas on this disc is the The Yangstse Incident starring Richard Todd and William Hartnell. This is a true story about an incident in 1949 when a British warship, HMS Amethyst, came under fire from the Communist Chinese on the Yangtse River.  The Suite is in three parts – the gorgeous quiet ‘theme’ is followed by a hornpipe. The selection concludes with the Amethyst March which incorporates ‘Hearts of Oak’ and other naval references. A great film with excellent music.

The 1950 film Portrait of Clare has been lost in the mists of time, and from what reviewers said, it is probably just as well. Lucas took a number of nineteenth-century songs and piano pieces and orchestrated them. The present example is Robert Schumann’s ‘Widmung’ from the song-cycle Myrthen. It is a good transcription and one hopes that some of the other pieces may follow suit.

Everyone (I hope) knows that Eric Coates wrote the fine Dam Buster’s March. However, fewer folk will realise that Leighton Lucas actually produced the score for the film and incorporated Coates’ legendary tune into the proceedings.  Lucas also composed his own ‘big tune’ and this is often heard in competition with the more famous melody as the film progresses.

Stage Fright was a film produced by Alfred Hitchcock in 1950. It is a crime story about a struggling actress and her efforts to prove the innocence of a friend who has been accused of murdering a high society entertainer. It has a big cast list including Marlene Dietrich, Alastair Simms and Richard Todd. The music nearly, but not quite, becomes Leighton Lucas’ Warsaw Concerto. It is romantic, well written and finely scored. Just a pity he did not produce a Piano Concerto!

Ice Cold in Alex tells the tale of a group of military personnel who make a long and arduous journey across the desert during the Second World War. It stars Anthony Quayle, Sylvia Syms and John Mills. The title is derived from Mills’ character dreaming of an ice-cold beer on reaching the sea port of Alexandria.  The present suite begins with the Prelude, continues with the very romantically scored love scene between Mills and Syms: this is music that is more at home in the Hollywood than in the desert. The Suite concludes with a march in the very best tradition.

The music for the British Transport Film production of This is York is one of the best scores for this type of now-nostalgic documentary.  The film tells the story of a day in the life of York railway station, although there are scenes in the town and further afield. It is seen through the eyes of the station master.  This is at times an almost impressionistic score that also has a very good locomotive sound created by the orchestra that is as impressive as Honegger’s Pacific 231. According to the liner notes, this is the only full film score by Leighton Lucas to have surfaced so far.

The CD ends with the ‘March-Prelude’ from the 1941 film Target for Tonight. This film described the preparation for an air raid over Germany. Interestingly, each part in the documentary was played by the man or woman who actually did the job, although names were changed for security reasons.  This short piece combines a number of themes from the film with the excellent march tune. It definitely nods to Walton more than to Eric Coates. I guess it is just all bit too short to really get into, but is enjoyable all the same.

As with all the Chandos Film music series this is a superb achievement. When one bears in mind that most of the music presented here has been arranged, transcribed or written down from hearing the soundtracks one realises just how much work has gone into making this CD the success it is. All the music is beautifully played by the The BBC National Orchestra of Wales and their conductor Rumon Gamba. This selection of tunes is surely a good distillation of the full film scores. The sound quality is excellent. As always the sleeve notes are excellent – however, please Chandos do not use white text of pictures of grey backgrounds. It is very difficult to read.  However the large number of ‘stills’ from the films makes a fascinating commentary on the music.

One can only hope that this CD will encourage performers and record producers to further explore the music of Arthur Benjamin and Leighton Lucas.

Full Track-List


Arthur Benjamin (1893-1960)
premiere recording
Suite from 'The Conquest of Everest' (1953) 9:34
Reconstructed by Marcus A. Caratelli
Orchestrated by Marcus A. Caratelli and Christoph Schürmann
1 I Title Music - 1:50
2 II Walls that Surpass the Imagination - 0:46
3 III The Great Lift - 2:27
4 IV Top of the World and Final Bars 4:30
5 The Storm Clouds Cantata from 'The Man Who Knew Too Much' (1934) 7:44
Edited by Philip Lane
Abigail Sara mezzo-soprano
Rob Court organ
Côr Caerdydd
Adrian Partington guest chorus master
Gwawr Owen conductor
Waltz and Hyde Park Galop from 'An Ideal Husband' (1947) 7:11
6 I Waltz 5:30
7 II Hyde Park Galop 1:41
Leighton Lucas (1903-1982)
Portrait of the Amethyst from 'Yangtse Incident' (1957) 6:49
Reconstructed by Philip Lane
premiere recording
8 1 Theme - 1:12
Sarah-Jayne Porsmoguer cor anglais
premiere recording
9 2 Hornpipe 1:51
premiere recording in this version
10 3 The Amethyst March 3:45
premiere recording in this version
11 Dedication from 'Portrait of Clare' (1950) 3:38
Arrangement by Leighton Lucas of 'Widmung' from Myrthen, Op. 25 by Robert Schumann (1810-1856)
premiere recording in this version
12 Prelude and Dam Blast from 'The Dam Busters' (1954) 5:15
Reconstructed and arranged by Philip Lane
13 Stage Fright Rhapsody from 'Stage Fright' (1950) 4:54
Reconstructed by Philip Lane
Catherine Roe-Williams piano
Suite from 'Ice Cold in Alex' (1958) 9:19
Reconstructed by Philip Lane
premiere recording
14 1 Prelude 2:08
premiere recording
15 2 Love Scene 4:21
premiere recording in this version
16 3 March 2:48
premiere recording
This Is York (1953) 9:26
Edited by Malcolm Riley
17 Opening Titles - 1:47
18 Setting the Path - Diagram Lights - 1:51
19 Thornton-le-Dale - 1:30
20 Smoking Engine - Pan across York - Committee Room - Portraits - Railway Museum 4:17
premiere recording in this version
21 March-Prelude from 'Target for Tonight' (1941) 3:04
Reconstructed by Philip Lane

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review first appeared.

The Letters and Diaries of Kathleen Ferrier: New Edition

The Letters and Diaries of Kathleen Ferrier, edited by Christopher Fifield (revised and enlarged edition)

The Boydell Press, Suffolk, soft covers, 489 pages

ISBN 9781843830917 £14:99

I had only just opened the parcel containing my copy of this book on Christmas Day when it was immediately pressed into service. I was writing an article about Sir Arthur Bliss’ fine scena for contralto and orchestra, The Enchantress: I needed to find out what Kathleen Ferrier had said about the work. So whilst the roast beef was in the oven, I checked out the dozen or so references to this work indicated in the index. Naturally, one’s eye caught a whole raft of other interesting bits and pieces. So a happy hour was spent exploring her musings about, and connections, with the music of Benjamin Britten, Charles Villiers Stanford and Peter Warlock. However, what impressed me most was the vast number of people, places and musical compositions that had interacted with this marvellous lady. It is this treasury of information that makes this book such a valuable piece of scholarship. However, running virtually neck and neck is the fact that this book is also a remarkable portrait of the life and times, the moods and concerns, the fun and the pain of Kathleen Ferrier. I must state that I did not read the first edition (2003) of this book.

I guess that a biography of Kathleen Ferrier is not required in this review. Save to say that she was, and remains, one of the most iconic singers in the world of British music. The tragedy of her early death has no doubt contributed to the sometimes hagiographical view of her life. However, her illness and subsequent death in 1953 must never detract from the fact that she was a lady who had begun her career as a telephone operator and had ended up performing on the great stages of the world. In many ways it is a fairy-tale story that had a sad, but ultimately positive ending. It is this sense of the affirmative that characterises this book.

Christopher Fifield has many strings to his bow. He is a conductor, a music historian, a lecturer and a broadcaster. The basic premise of this volume is to present a large selection of Ferrier’s letters and diaries. To this, is added the lightest possible, but ultimately vital commentary. He has written what may be regarded as an ideal model of this kind of book.

The Letters and Diaries of Kathleen Ferrier is to a certain extent ‘technical.’ It is unlikely to be through read. Scholars and scribblers will find that it contains an enormous amount of essential primary data for their explorations into a vast array of topics. Musical historians will be first in the queue: this will include those who specialise in opera, folksong, Mahler, Brahms and British composers. Other students will want to explore the letters and diaries from a social history point of view. Here is a record of the work and travel arrangements of a very busy lady. Even the train times and the hotels stayed in are mentioned. Another group of interested people will relate to the sad side of these letters and diaries – they will want to understand how she coped with breast cancer.  Certainly these readers will find that through all the stress and pain she never lost her wicked sense of humour.

The book takes its place as the latest in a small but select group of volumes published since 1953. The earliest book was a collection of six tributes written the year following her death – Kathleen Ferrier –A Memoir. Contributions were made by Sir John Barbirolli, Benjamin Britten, Neville Cards, Roy Henderson, Gerald Moore and Bruno Walter. The following year, her sister, Winifred Ferrier published the first biography, The Life of Kathleen Ferrier. This has always been regarded as an excellent and objective account of her sister’s life.  An unauthorised biography by Charles Rigby, also published in 1955 has been the subject of much controversy and is deemed to be inaccurate in some ways. A third of a century later Maurice Leonard’s Kathleen (1988) revealed some aspects of the singer’s life and illness ‘that her sister had been reluctant to focus on so soon after Kathleen's death’. It was written with Winifred’s full cooperation. A second, revised edition was released in 2008. One of the most recent contributions to Ferrier scholarship has been Paul Campion’s Ferrier- A Career Recorded (2005).  This is an annotated discography and filmography covering all the recordings known at the time of writing.  

The present book is quite simply organised. After the usual offices the letters are preceded by an introduction, setting them in context. These letters are then presented by individual year (except those from 1940-1947, which are grouped together) preceded by a short historical and biographical note. The final chapter in this section is a collection of letters defining Ferrier’s relationship with the BBC spanning the years 1941-1943. This is a new chapter added to the present edition of this book.  In all some 409 letters are published.

The second section consists of her diary entries from 1942 to shortly before her death in 1953. There follows a selection of tributes to the singer, a list of persons referred to in the text, a bibliography and a suite of indices. There are some sixteen photographic plates with a good selection of photographs of Ferrier, some of which I believe are previously unpublished.

Possibly the most useful part of this book are the extensive indices. I want to explore this in detail. The first section is entitle ‘Kathleen Ferrier on Composers’. I am not too sure what this achieves, as none of the references here I looked up involve an extensive comment by Ferrier on the composer. The same may be said about ‘Kathleen Ferrier on Conductors.’ However the section ‘Ferrier on Ferrier’ is excellent, although lacking in page references. For example in 1949, she wrote, ‘Some of the audience were knitting!! I could have spat on them.’ And also ‘I will never pay mi [sic] bill!!!!! The reader will have to hunt through the letters and diaries to find the exact date and context. The most important sections of the indices are devoted to the [Musical] works, the places, venues and festivals and finally a general index which is largely a list of people.  The listings of music are impressive. There are dozens of references to works by Gluck, Britten, Schubert and Purcell. But less well-known composers and music are also referenced in some detail. One that caught my eye was Herbert Sumsion’s ‘Watts Cradle Song.’ There are some fifteen references to this lovely, but forgotten song. But beware, these are mainly references and are typically not comments on, or analysis of, the works listed.  The index of venues reveals just how far and wide Kathleen Ferrier travelled: Holland, the USA, Switzerland, Italy and Cleethorpes.

The book is well-presented. The binding, although paperback, is robust. The paper is good quality and the photographic plates are clear and sharp. The price is hardly expensive by today’s standards, so I believe that this represents excellent value for money.  I know that this book is on sale across a wide range of outlets. Mine was bought in Forsyth’s Music Shop in Deansgate, Manchester: I have seen it in Foyles and Waterstones.  

I think it will be obvious to anyone who has followed me so far in this review that I strongly recommend this book. I cannot see for the life of me why I did not beg, steal or borrow the first edition! The new edition contains some 90 newly published letters, the above mentioned chapter on the ‘Ferrier and the BBC’ and some additional memoirs. The book was re-published to mark the centenary of Ferrier’s birth in 1912. To quote the publisher’s blurb for the book, it provides ‘a vivid picture of a life which illuminated the war and post-war years of austerity and hardship. Kathleen Ferrier was surely fun to know. Her personality was a mix of extreme modesty and self-determined ambition, topped with a mischievously blunt sense of earthy Lancastrian humour’.

The final word about Kathleen Ferrier can surely go to Bruno Walter: ‘She should be remembered in a major key.’ Christopher Fifield’s book has surely made a major contribution to achieving this noble desideratum.  

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review first appeared.

The Annotated Programme: Two Humorous Anecdotes.

Most listeners will have read programme notes for music that they are listening to at the opera, the concert hall and the recital room. However, not all notes are helpful. Sometimes too little is said, at other times the pages read like a chapter from a doctoral thesis using a technical analytical tool.  Percy A. Scholes, in his compendium of writing from the Musical Times, The Mirror of music 1844-1944 has given a few excellent examples of bad, if not dire programme notes. I give to here with not footnotes and no apologies.

Beethoven’s Sonata in E, for Pianoforte

‘The theme is a connected flow, flowing back when it is varied. The second one is very delicate, but not flowing in one wave like the other. The allegretto is a bearable tragedy- not deep or painful: it comes to the surface with incisive notes, but not often. The second part is its relief, or sleep, and it ends in the same strain. The rondo follows. It has a slightly feverish life: its episodes and variations are of an unstable or capricious nature, except one in G, which is decided, but there is no return to that key. 

Musical Times May 1881

An Unspecified Work 

‘The last note is the low E in the basses, bass clarinet, harp and tam-tam. This note is based on material supplied by the composer.’

Musical Times July 1909

George Macfarren: Come Away, Death

When I first started listening to British Music I believed the conventional wisdom that the Victorian era was a ‘Land without Music’. The first glimmer of hope had come with Elgar’s Enigma Variations – or was it Parry’s Prometheus Unbound? And some of my contemporaries went further: there had been no decent British music written between the death of Purcell and Benjamin Britten’s Peter Grimes – or whatever particular work was in fashion. One day, I heard an amateur performance of Arthur Sullivan’s ‘The Long Day Closes’. I was bowled over by this beautiful and moving part-song. During the same concert, I heard George A Macfarren’s ‘Come Away, Death’.  It too, was a revelation. I was convinced that there was more to this music that I had been led to believe. Since that time I have explored music by these ‘dry as dust’ composers and have rarely been disappointed. From John Field (the Irish Chopin) through the two Macfarrens and on towards Parry and Stanford I have found much hidden treasure.  Names such as Francis Edward Bache, William Sterndale Bennett, Hugo Pearson, Cirpriani Potter, Arthur Sullivan and Frederic Cowen have written impressive concert and recital music that does not deserve to be forgotten.  

All this is said to introduce the YouTube recording of George Macfarren’s ‘Come Away, Death’. This part-song was composed around 1850. It is a setting of the Shakespeare’s fine lyric from Twelfth Night given to the character of Feste, the ‘fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in’ (2.4). In the song, he describes the feelings of someone who has died for his uncaring love, and wishes to be buried in a far country and without due ceremony.

Come away, come away, death,

  And in sad cypress let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away, breath;

  I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

  O prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

  Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

  On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

  My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:

A thousand, thousand sighs to save,

  Lay me, lay me, lay me, O where

Sad true lover ne’er find my grave,

  To weep there!

This is not the forum to give a detailed analysis of this fine part-song. However two things can be said. Firstly the composer does not over sentimentalise his theme. The emotion is kept in check throughout the entire piece. He has not used sugared harmonies. Secondly Macfarren’s skill as a contrapuntalist is clear from the first bar to the last. It is a well balanced presentation of the text and admirably written for the voices.

‘Come, Away, Death’ appears to have been first published in Novello's Part-Song Book. First Series, 1851. It was subsequently printed in Novello's Part-Song Book. Second Series. Vol.1. No. 51, 1869, etc. and Novello's Tonic Sol-fa Series. No. 35, 1886. It is currently available in The New Novello Part-Song Book, Novello, London, 1999.

George Macfarren’s 'Come Away, Death' can be heard on YouTube

Francis Edward Bache (1833-1858) was a pupil of Willam Sterndale Bennett. These two composers have very different biographies but were similar in their music and in the reception accorded to it. Common wisdom suggests that Sterndale Bennett’s compositional career peaked early on and a life spent teaching music did not allow him to repeat his youthful triumphs. Bache on the other hand quite simply showed great promise and then died early – from tuberculosis. Bache may not have been in thrall to Sterndale Bennett’s musical ethos, but it was certainly influential.

There is quite a large body of work by Bache in existence including some three piano concertos. Yet little reference is made to these compositions in musical literature: Bache’s sister Constance does not discuss this work or the other concerted pieces in her biography of the composer. 

He is usually remembered - if at all - for his Songs Op.16. One teasing anecdote about the composer is that as part of his convalescence he went to live in Torbay. Whilst there he wrote two sets of Souvenirs based on musings from his peregrinations – à la Liszt’s Années de Pèlerinage. One, hardly surprisingly, describes Italy but the other looks odd in print – Souvenirs de Torquay! Surely a desideratum for all enthusiasts of English piano music! 

In his three movement Piano Concerto in E major Op.18 we have an excellent work – certainly no-one would claim that it was an essay of enormous originality or that the composer aspired to great genius. But the work has what it takes. It is full of interest, charm and fine pianism and most important of all – lovely tunes. I could not help thinking about the music from Gilbert & Sullivan’s operas as I listened to this work - especially the faster themes. That may put some people off this work – but all I mean to imply by the comparison is that Bache has such a fund of invention for his melodies. And, like the later Sullivan, they sparkle! It is easy to see references to his teacher, Sterndale Bennett, but it is the meditative or reflective nature of much of this music that leads me to rate this concerto so highly. It well balances exuberance and contemplation: it inspires and it moves – what more can a listener ask? 

Francis Edward Bache: Piano Concerto in E major Op.18  can be heard on Hyperion: The Romantic Piano Concerto Volume 43 HYPERION CDA67595

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this material was first published.