G&S: The Ghosts’ High-Noon from Ruddigore

Ruddigore was the very first Gilbert and Sullivan opera I heard. That would be in 1968. It was the annual production of a Savoy Opera by the pupils at Coatbridge High School. Sadly, this venerable tradition was discontinued many years ago in favour of something less niche and dumbed down.

The plot of Ruddigore (without spoilers) takes place in a quaint Cornish fishing village, young Rose Maybud - prim, poetic, and governed by etiquette books - finds herself courted by the bashful Robin Oakapple, who harbours a dark secret: he is actually Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd, rightful heir to the cursed title of Baronet of Ruddigore. This ancestral burden demands that each successor commit a daily crime - or face torment from the ghostly gallery of former baronets. As identities unravel and obligations mount, the tale spirals into a gothic romp of mistaken identities, melodramatic villains, haunted portraits, and moral conundrums.

I can still recall the dramatic effect of this music on me, especially the ghosty elements. The song that remained in my mind was The Ghosts’ High Noon:

When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in the moonlight flies,

And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight skies -

When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogs bay the moon,

Then is the spectres' holiday - then is the ghosts' high noon!

As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees, and the mists lie low on the fen,

From grey tombstones are gathered the bones that once were women

and men,

And away they go, with a mop and a mow, to the revel that ends too

soon,

For cockcrow limits our holiday - the dead of the night's high

noon!

And then each ghost with his ladye-toast to their churchyard beds

take flight,

With a kiss, perhaps, on her lantern chaps, and a grisly grim "good

night";

Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth its

jolliest tune,

And ushers our next high holiday - the dead of the night's high

noon!

Ghosts rise at midnight for eerie revels, dancing from tomb to fen, then vanish at cockcrow - awaiting the next spectral fête beneath moonlit skies.

Listen to Thomas Lawlow and the New Sadlers Wells Opera Chorus and Orchestra on YouTube, here. The conductor is Simon Phipps.

Looking Back: A Review Revisited: Egon Wellez's Symphonies Nos.4, 6, and 7

This review originally appeared on MusicWeb International on 5 June 2005. Considering my recent engagement with a recording of Wellesz’s String Quartets, I was prompted to revisit my earlier reflections on the composer. The renewed encounter with his music reaffirmed the relevance of those initial impressions about his Symphonies Nos.4, 6 and 7, and it seemed timely to bring them back into circulation. What follows is a reprint of that original review, offered now with the benefit of hindsight and continued appreciation for Wellesz’s distinctive voice. I have made a few edits.

I had never heard a symphony by Egon Wellesz before this CD arrived on the doorstep. Now, I know to some folk this will be a dreadful and unforgivable admission. But the simple fact is that I have never made it there before. It is one of the joys of listening to music that one makes constant discoveries – good, bad, and indifferent.

My immediate reaction is that I have been missing a lot these 50 years. But my mitigation is two-fold – he is not exactly the most prominent name at symphony orchestra concerts and secondly there are only thirteen or so “dedicated” CDs listed in the Arkiv online catalogue representing sixteen or so works. (Up to about 20 in 2025). We are fortunate in having seven out of the nine symphonies available on CPO.

Egon Wellesz was an ‘honorary’ British composer, having fled to this country from his home Vienna because of Nazi persecution. He had been professor of musicology at Vienna, and he continued this career in the UK.

In his Austrian days Wellesz had studied with Arnold Schoenberg but also absorbed influences from Max Reger and Gustav Mahler. Describing his style is difficult. I do not like to say he sounds like ‘x, y or z,’ however the consensus seems to be that he successfully managed to synthesise disparate elements from the expressionist, classical and archaic musical vocabularies.

The CD opens with the ‘easiest’ of the three symphonies to come to terms with. This Fourth Symphony is still in the tonal sound world, so it does not challenge the ears quite as much as some of Wellesz’s later work. In fact, the third movement, the adagio, is one of the loveliest pieces in the repertoire.

The op.70 is subtitled ‘Sinfonia Austriaca and quite obviously looks back to the composer’s birthplace. It would be appropriate to describe this as ‘romantic’: it owes more to Mahler and Reger rather than the Schoenberg or the ‘secret’ harmonies of Byzantine monks.

The Sixth Symphony is unlike the tonal and romantic music presented in the Fourth. Wellesz’s musical language has had a sea change in the meantime. It is fair to say that the first four symphonies owed much to Mahler, Bruckner, and even Schubert. The Fifth began to explore the use of the twelve-note row in conjunction with personal tonal language. The Sixth Symphony makes use of “freely applied atonality, melodic construction preferring broad intervals, increasingly thin texture, and, in connection with it, increasing economy of instrumentation.” It has three movements – an animated scherzo framed by two slow outer ones. This work is taut. Strange as it may seem, certain passages made me think of Vaughan Williams’ Fourth and Sixth Symphonies as reference points. It is Wellesz’s use of unison string cantilenas that suggests this.

I listened to the Seventh Symphony straight through twice. Now this was strange as after reading the programme notes I felt sure that this would be the one that I least enjoyed: I was wrong. It is the symphony that moved me most! Back in the late ‘sixties when it was written it would be seen as being quite ‘modern.’ Many years have flown and now it is revealed as actually quite a ‘lyrical’ work. The excellent notes by Hannes Heher describe the compositional process in detail. It is best to say that it owes something to Webern. But Wellesz is not slavishly beholden to anyone. I suppose that the work of Humphrey Searle kept springing to mind as I listened. The symphony carries a subtitle of ‘Contra Torrentem’ – against the stream.

The presentation of the CD is outstanding. The quality of the sound is absolutely beyond reproach. The artwork on the cover is by Egon Schiele (Melanie, the sister of the Künstlers) and adds to the sophisticated feel of this disc. And the programme notes come up to CPO’s usual high standard; it is a veritable essay on the symphonies and includes a short article by Gottfried Rabl on the trials and tribulations of preparing the scores for performance. Wellesz did not have an eye for detail on the written page!

Overall, this is a superb recording. It is a splendid introduction to the symphonies of Egon Wellesz. The order that they are presented allows the listener to be drawn into his sound world without too great a sense of musical dislocation.

Each of these works is vital; all three symphonies are an integral and essential contribution to the symphonic literature of the twentieth century, and I find it incredible that they are represented by only one recording each. Such, unfortunately are the ways of the classical music world.

I, for one, will be looking forward to hearing the other six symphonies at the earliest possible opportunity - which I have since done! 

Track Listing:
Egon Wellesz (1885-1974)
Symphony No.4 Op.70 (1951-1953) [27:56]
Symphony No.6 Op. 95 (1965) [23:18]
Symphony No.7 Op.102 (1967) [18:58]
Radio-Symphonieorchester Wien/Gottfried Rabl
rec. 13-16, and 26-27 Nov 2001, Grosser Sendesaal, Funkhaus ORF,
CPO 999 808-2

 

Masks – An unusual introduction to the music of Sir Arthur Bliss Part II

Masks were first performed at a concert on 2 Feb 1926, by the composer and pianist Arthur Benjamin, during a 'Concert Spirituel' at the Faculty of Arts Gallery, 10 Upper John Street Golden Square, London. The recital consisted largely of music by contemporary composers. They included the first performance of Gerrard William’s Second String Quartet. This work, in spite of its good reception and apparent debt to Debussy seems to have disappeared. Miss Anne Thursfield sang ‘excellently’ five songs by Ravel and there was a performance of Boccherini’s Quintet in E.

Masks was reasonably well received by contemporary reviewers. The Times (5 February 1926) noted that Arthur Benjamin had played this work brilliantly and ‘with a glittering hardness of tone which the music seemed to demand.’ However, he did add a sting in the tail when he suggested that ‘we could not take these four pieces seriously, and probably the composer does not wish us to.’ And it gets no better: he concludes his comments with ‘...a worse fault is that we suspect some of his irrelevances to be deliberately made for the sake of being irrelevant.’  It is difficult to know what the reviewer regarded as being ‘irrelevant’ in this music but must assume that it is due to the perception at that time of Arthur Bliss being an ‘enfant terrible’ and writing music that was designed to shock and surprise rather than to entertain or inspire.

However, The Manchester Guardian (3 February 1926) was a little more positive. They report that ‘Masks... [had] a nice sense of colour and a quick intellectual grasp of epigrammatic material.’ It concludes that ‘Bliss is always witty and to the point in these four pieces but hardly knits his flashes of inspiration satisfactorily together.’

The following year a review of this work appeared in The Musical Times (1 August 1925) in an important study of recently published piano music, H.G. (Harvey Grace) wrote that:-

‘One doesn't need to look over much of the so-called 'advanced' type of new music in order to see that its composers fall into two groups. There are those who have something to say and who can say it in a manner that is genuinely novel, and yet natural and sincere. And there are the others. That Arthur Bliss belongs to the first group has always been evident to most of us. His Masks, four pieces, just published under one cover by Curwens [q.v.], strike me as being among the most significant of [the] new pianoforte works. They abound in passages that look all wrong, but sound extraordinarily right. This, of course, is merely another way of saying that the composer knows his job; and it follows that the player must know his, too. He must not only be a good man of his hands; he must be able to manage the nice adjustment of tonal values necessary for the due effect of the more dissonant passages... As is implied above, these pieces are difficult. They are not everybody's meat, but the player who is not at once repelled, and who perseveres with them, will find himself more and more attracted.’

Critical commentary disappears from the scene until the revival of interest in Bliss’ music in the early nineteen-nineties. Even then, Masks was not a work that seemed to attract much attention.

Unfortunately, there appears to be only one recording of this work. [1] In 1991 Chandos released a significant edition of the Viola Sonata with Emanuel Vardi and Kathron Sturrock. Included in this programme were the Triptych (1970), the Toccata (c.1925), the Two Interludes (1925), and Masks (CHAN 9770). The recording was well received by the critics. Michael Kennedy wrote in the July 1991 edition of Gramophone that ‘[the] most impressive [work] is the Triptych written for Louis Kentner in 1971, very much the music of the composer of the Piano Concerto. But I most enjoyed the four Masks which were composed in his avant-garde years in the early 1920s. For all their potent influence by Stravinsky and jazz, they have inventiveness, a flair that somehow seems to have left Bliss, or returned only fitfully once he had decided to become an Important English Composer.’ This CD is now out of print, but it is possible to download the work from a variety of classical music specialists on the internet.

Why do I like these pieces? Well, I think there are two main reasons. Firstly, they are very much a product of their age – Bliss was then perceived as a ‘bad boy’ of the British musical world. Yet with Masks critics began to perceive a genuine voice emerging from the musical fun and games. They were not written simply to shock. Secondly after a period of 80 years any sense of the avant-garde has largely departed from these pieces; however, the listener is conscious of an abiding sense of tongue on cheek balanced with a more profound understanding of musical expression. They have become less regarded as period pieces and more as cherished works of art as time passes.

Finally, a few years ago I was browsing in a second-hand bookshop in York, where they specialise in classical sheet music. I was both surprised and delighted to find amongst the piano music the copy of Masks that had one belonged to the late Mr. Kenneth Dawkins. So, the circle was complete.

Notes

[1] Since this essay was originally published, Mark Bebbington has recorded Masks on the Somm Label (SOMMCD 0148, 2015). Andrew Achenbach (The Gramophone, August 2015, p.58) called them “exhilarating” and noted the “sense of poignancy, loss and rage in the final two Masks (marked Sinister and Military…”

Concluded

With thanks to The Arthur Bliss Society Newsletter Volume 9, Number 1, Spring 2011: 12-16 where this essay first appeared.

Masks – An unusual introduction to the music of Sir Arthur Bliss Part I

All enthusiasts of Arthur Bliss (1891-1975) will be able to tell of their first introduction to his music. For many, I guess, it will be A Colour Symphony or one of the ballet scores – Miracle in the Gorbals or Checkmate. For some, it may have been a film score such as Things to Come or Welcome the Queen. Maybe it was the great choral work Morning Heroes or the impressive Introduction and Allegro. However, I imagine that few will have approached the master through his piano work Masks. Let me explain.

When I was still being introduced to the great works of the British music repertoire I got to know a gentleman by the name of Kenneth R. Dawkins. In about 1972 he had been appointed organist and choir master my local church. At that time, I sung in the choir and was the ‘deputy’ organist. He had been born around the turn of the century in Coventry and had worked for most of his life as a pianist and arranger, although he played the organ and turned his hand to composition. His great claim to fame was to have played piano duet with Maurice Ravel in the ‘twenties. Over a few years he introduced me to much music – including the organ works of Olivier Messiaen. Nevertheless, it was the times that he visited my house that remain in my mind. He played a number of works for me on my piano, including my first hearing of John Ireland’s The Island Spell and Billy Mayerl’s Marigold. It was at one of these occasions that he played to me Arthur Bliss’s Masks. It is work that has remained as a favourite ever since, although I had to wait for another fifteen years before being able to purchase a recording of this work. Over the succeeding 38 years I have heard much of Bliss’s music and have come to regard him as one of the major voices of the twentieth century. Yet looking at the literature there has been little written about the piano works in general or Masks in particular.

In January 1923, Arthur Bliss sailed to the United States with his father, Francis Edward Bliss. Bliss père had remarried and wished to spend the last years of his life in his native country. They chose Santa Barbara in California to live. The composer was not totally settled there: he did travel in the States and back again to England for various performances and functions. Nevertheless, in June 1924 he met his future wife, Gertrude (Trudy) Hoffman in Santa Barbara. The American years were rich for Bliss, not only personally, but in the performances of his music and the works composed. From this period date the song cycle, The Women of Yueh, the String Quartet No.2, the incidental music to King Solomon and the Two Interludes for Piano.

Masks was composed in 1924 whilst Arthur Bliss was in the United States. According to Stewart Craggs, the holograph has been lost. However, the work was published in 1925 by J. Curwen & Sons Ltd, 24 Berners Street, London. Originally, the four pieces were given titles, but these were not included in the music’s engraving. They were ‘A Comedy Mask,’ ‘A Romantic Mask,’ a ‘Sinister Mask’ and finally a ‘Military Mask.’ The work was dedicated to Felix Goodwin who was a personal friend of the composer. Goodwin was associated with the music publisher Goodwin and Tabb and had made huge efforts on behalf of British music and composers.

I had never been quite sure how to interpret Masks. Were they just a pastiche of different piano styles, written for effect, or was there something deeper in the concept of this work? It was not until I read a paragraph in John Sugden’s biography of the composer that the penny dropped. Sugden writes that Bliss believed that his personality had changed little over the years – from his childhood, through his time in the trenches and into his musical maturity. When he was at school ‘...he learnt how to conceal his true feelings behind a mask of indifference, he used it –the mask – during the next few years of his life when he was in the army...’ Bliss is quoted as saying that ‘...it enabled me, when I had endured these, to shake off the experiences that might have greatly affected me, and emerge again for my destined life in music as I really was.’ It is this psychological mind game that underlies the musical content of Masks. Certainly, the striking cover by C. Paine from the 1925 edition bears this out. Three men hurry past, each carrying a mask – one is leering, the other is worried and possibly depressed, whilst the third is quite ambiguous. Interestingly, Paine has not tried to recreate the original designations of each of the four pieces. Certainly, he has not drawn the ‘Romantic’ or the ‘Military’ masks, whilst the ‘Comedy’ and ‘Sinister’ ones may or may not be represented –it depends on the artistic prejudices of the viewer of the cover. 

Bibliography
Sugden, John, Bliss: The Illustrated Lives of the Great Composers, Omnibus Press, 1997.

To be continued…

With thanks to The Arthur Bliss Society Newsletter Volume 9, Number 1, Spring 2011: 12-16 where this essay first appeared.

Egon Wellesz (1885–1974) was a distinguished Austrian composer, teacher, and musicologist. A pupil of Arnold Schoenberg and Guido Adler, he taught at the University of Vienna until the Anschluss in 1938, after which he settled in England. There he became Reader in Byzantine music at Oxford. Though briefly interned as an enemy alien during WWII, he continued lecturing and later resumed composing, producing nine symphonies and numerous chamber works and operas. His style evolved from serialism to a more diatonic idiom, often echoing Mahlerian breadth. A key figure in the International Society of Contemporary Music (ISCM), he fostered Anglo-European musical dialogue. Egon Wellesz died in Oxford and was buried in Vienna.

I am beholden to the detailed liner notes provided with this CD.

The earliest work on this disc is the String Quartet No.2 in G minor, op.20 dating from 1915-16. At this time, Wellesz was a lecturer in music history at the University of Vienna. Certainly, the slow-paced opening Sehr Ruhig (very quiet) gives little indication of the upheavals in Europe at that time. This is typically calm and thoughtful music that only occasionally give rise to passion and angst. Tonality is present, but a little stretched from the key centre. The second movement is a robust Kräftig bewegt (strongly moved). The liner notes explain that it is in the form of a rondo, predicated around “a striking main theme” with a hint of Baroque. The episodes are often truncated, use previously heard tunes and subtly transition from one to the other. The Scherzo comes next. It is short, rhythmic, and pithy with a surprisingly lovely trio section. This relaxed mood is retained in the finale, Ruhevoll (Peaceful). There are some dramatic moments here though, before the work closes with a unison pizzicato, played forte-fortissimo. The stylistic parameters of this quartet reflect Wellesz’s early modernist voice, shaped by post-Romantic lyricism and Schoenbergian influence. It is the most approachable of the three Quartets recorded here.

The String Quartet No. 5, op. 60 was begun during the summer of 1943 and completed on 9 January the following year. It marked his return to composition after a prolonged hiatus following his exile to Oxford. This Quartet is steeped in a mood of regret and nostalgia, a tone Wellesz himself acknowledged when he described it as having been written “in a dark time” and intended as “a farewell to my former life and the friends of my youth and manhood.” This sense of leave-taking is most poignantly expressed in the finale, a slow elegy bearing the subtitle In Memoriam. Despite its austere idiom, the quartet contains many passages of striking beauty. Although Wellesz draws on Schoenbergian theory, he does so with considerable freedom, adapting serial procedures to suit his own personal needs. The music often hints at tonal centres, yet these are frequently unsettled by dissonant inflections. Formally, the quartet is in three movements. The first opens with a Maestoso that leads into an Allegro energico, structured loosely around conventional sonata principles. This is followed by a Scherzo marked Allegretto comodo, whose tense character provides significant contrast and momentum. The final movement, In Memoriam, is the emotional heart of the work - its breadth and duration equal to the combined length of the preceding two movements. It serves not only as a personal farewell to past times, but also as a broader tribute. As Caroline Cepin Benser in her monograph has observed, Wellesz intended it as a memorial to the circle of composers associated with Schoenberg, whose creative lives had been disrupted by political forces. The title gained further significance after the accidental death of Anton Webern in September 1945.

Between 1945 and 1956, Wellesz composed five symphonies, his only English opera Incognita, and a number of notable chamber works - including the Sixth and the present String Quartet No. 7, Op. 66. The listener will be conscious that this latter offering is more “tonal” in its impact than No.5. It was written rapidly between 3 March and 2 April 1948. The liner notes suggest that formally it is rooted in classical tradition. It is presented in two movements. Once again, duration wise they are unbalanced with the concluding Adagio and Fugue being three times as long as the opening Allegro moderato. The Quartet opens with a smiling theme which is balanced by a haunting second subject. The second movement is intense and occasionally quite scary. The exposition of the fugue, begun by the solo cello, is laconic. Yet, it does end positively with a “joyful” Allegro energico banishing any angst. Overall, this is a striking work that establishes Wellesz’s evolving mastery of form and expression in the post-war years. Its emotional breadth - from lyrical charm to brooding introspection and eventual exuberance is palpable.

Established in Vienna in 1998, the Aron Quartett has garnered acclaim for its performances of 20th-century repertoire, with a particular affinity for the Second Viennese School, while also embracing classical traditions. The ensemble has toured internationally and released several recordings, notably featuring Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s string quartets and Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s piano quintets.

I have already mentioned the comprehensive liner notes accompanying this disc. They are printed in German and English. I do wish the font were a wee bit larger: there is no obvious source for sleeve note downloads of CPO CDs. The booklet includes a couple of characteristic photos of the composer. The cover is taken from Austrian artist Egon Schiele’s Felderlandschaft (Field Landscape) dating from 1910.

This new release marks the beginning (hopefully) of a complete cycle of Egon Wellesz’s ten (nine in the catalogue, but maybe includes 4 Stücke, op.103, 1968) string quartets, tracing his aesthetic journey from early modernist lyricism to post-war tonal refinement. The Aron Quartett delivers nuanced, idiomatic performances that illuminate Wellesz’s evolving voice. While an earlier recording of Quartets 3, 4, and 6 by the Artis Quartett (Nimbus NI 5821, reviewed here, and here) offered valuable insight, this new cycle promises a broader, more unified portrait of Wellesz’s compositional legacy.

Track Listing:
Egon Wellesz (1885-1974)
String Quartet No.2 in G minor, op.20 (1915-16)
String Quartet No.5, op.60 (1943)
String Quartet No.7, op.66 (1948)
Aron Quartett: Ludwig Müller (violin); Barna Kobori (violin); Georg Hamann (viola), Christophe Pantillon (cello)
rec. June 2019 (No.5); October 2019 (No.2); December 2022 (No.7) Konzertsaal der Musikschule Bräuhausgasse, Vienna.
CPO Records CPO 555 617-2

Ignaz Moscheles: Les Charmes de Londres

I regard Ignaz Moscheles (1794-1870) as an ‘honorary’ British musician. He was a Bohemian pianist and composer, renowned as one of the leading virtuosos of his time. Moscheles was a close associate of Beethoven, who entrusted him with the piano arrangement of his opera Fidelio. He gained international acclaim for his virtuosic performances and compositions, including eight piano concertos and countless preludes and studies for piano and chamber works. In 1821, Moscheles settled in London, where he later became a prominent figure in the musical scene. He later joined the Leipzig Conservatory as a professor of piano, collaborating with his friend and former pupil, Felix Mendelssohn. Moscheles’ influence extended to composers like Chopin and Schumann, and his innovative approach to piano technique and pedagogy left a lasting impact on the music world.

Following concert appearances in Aachen and Brussels, Moscheles made his way back to London in late January 1827. The months that followed proved remarkably productive: he completed his Fifty Preludes for Piano, op. 73, and penned a Rondo that would later find its place in the Album des Pianistes. Around the same time, he wrote Les Charmes de Londres (The Charms of London), op.74, is a brilliant example of the early Romantic salon style, blending virtuosic flair with cosmopolitan elegance. Published in the mid-1830s, the work reflects both the composer’s affection for his adopted city and his reputation as one of Europe’s leading pianists.

The piece, which is written in A major, opens with a stately Introduction written in 9/8 time:

This sets a scene of refined grandeur before launching into the main Rondo brillant now appearing with a 6/8-time signature:

Here, Moscheles’ gift for melodic invention and pianistic brilliance comes to the fore. The rondo theme is buoyant and urbane, punctuated by dazzling passagework and playful modulations. It is music designed to charm, entertain, and impress - much like the fashionable soirées of Regency London where such works would have been performed.

Though not programmatic in the strict sense, the title invites us to imagine the city’s allure: its glittering concert halls, genteel drawing rooms, and vibrant cultural life. Moscheles, a close associate of Mendelssohn and a key figure in the transition from Classical to Romantic idioms, imbues the work with both technical polish and expressive warmth.

One contemporary commentator (The Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review, July 1827, p.403) writes:

Les charmes de Londres! Why it is so called we cannot at all guess, n’importe; it a least possesses all the charme of its author’s genius,  and  if it had any illusion to London, it is to the unalloyed pleasure a young heart feels when first introduced to all the splendours and all the seduction of the metropolis. The subject is one of the most bewitching we ever heard, and the whole lesson is as buoyant and sparkling, so full of life and variety, as all the charms of London combined, and more so, for it is without any defects or disagreeables, of which there are but too many in the great city.”

In a slightly patronising review in The Athenaeum: London Literary and Critical Journal (28 March 1828, p.296) the critic writes:

“The simple announcement of this publication will be recommendation sufficient, without our offering any praise: we, therefore, briefly assert that is a worthy a place in every lady’s musical portfolio…It may be unnecessary to add that it requires a good performer upon the pianoforte to do it justice; but it will repay the amateur who is willing to bestow justice upon it.”

Les Charmes de Londres, then stands as a musical postcard from a pianist-composer at the height of his powers - an affectionate tribute to a city that embraced him, and a showcase of the charm he returned in kind.

No recording of Ignaz Moscheles’s Les Charmes de Londres appears to have been commercially released on record or CD, however it can be heard on YouTube, here. The unnamed pianist is playing at the Iowa School of Music.

The Eule Organ: Magdalen College, Oxford

Installed in 2023, the Eule organ at Magdalen College Chapel marked a new chapter in the College’s distinguished musical history. It replaced the ailing Mander organ installed in 1986. Built by Hermann Eule Orgelbau of Bautzen, Germany, the instrument reflects German Romantic ideals while remaining versatile for a broad repertoire including Baroque. With forty-five stops across four manuals and pedals - including a rare Physharmonica and a commanding tuba stop - it offers exceptional colour and dynamic range.

The organ’s case, which is a reimagining of Julian Bicknell’s earlier work for the Mander organ, sits elegantly in the south gallery, while the console allows direct engagement with the choir and congregation. Funded by a bequest from Anthony Smith CBE, the instrument was inaugurated by former Magdalen organ scholars. It now serves as a focal point for worship and recital.

The recital opens with a dark, melancholic offering by Franz Liszt. Originally written for piano, Funérailles (Funeral) is the seventh number in Liszt's Harmonies poétiques et religieuses which was a collection of ten-character studies inspired by the gloomier aspects of death and religion. Funérailles dates from 1849 and commemorates the casualties of the Hungarian Revolution of 1848 and majors on themes of pain, and suffering. This transcription for organ, was made by Jeanne Demessieux. It is an arduous piece, although there are some remarkable moments especially the moving funeral dirge and the triumphant march.

Next up is Liszt’s arrangement of the hackneyed Pilgrims Chorus from Richard Wagner’s 1845 opera, Tannhäuser. It evokes solemn devotion and rising hope, symbolising the hero’s longing for grace, through its steady rhythm and sacred harmonies.

The liner notes explain that Carl Reinecke’s Organ Sonata in G minor, op. 284 has echoes of Felix Mendelssohn especially in the beautiful middle section, which is a nod to the elder man’s Lieder ohne Worte. There is considerable interest in the first and last movements, with a glorious conclusion expounding the chorale theme, Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern (How brightly shies the morning star). There is no consensus as to when the Sonata was completed, although judging by the opus number it is late in Reinecke’s life. Sadly, Reinecke’s achievement is forgotten, yet his contribution to his art was considerable, through his post as composition teacher at the Leipzig Conservatoire. His pupils included Edvard Grieg, Max Bruch, Ferrucio Busoni and Charles Villers Stanford.

Ethel Smyth’s Prelude & Fugue on ‘O Traurigkeit, O Herzeleid’ (O Sadness, O Heartache) was written when she was in her mid ‘twenties. It is the fifth and final number of her Short Choral Preludes (1882-84). From the opening Prelude meditating on Good Friday, which would make a lovely introit, to the considerable Fugue, with its dramatic middle section and ruminative close, this is a gem.

Sigfrid Karg-Elert was a German composer who wrote in a wide variety of genres but is recalled nowadays for his expressive organ works. Influenced by Debussy and Scriabin, he fused chromaticism and Impressionism with Baroque polyphony. The atmospheric The Reed-grown Waters is taken from his Seven Pastels from the Lake of Constance (c.1920). It calls for innovative registrations and a sensitive evocation of mystery. Listen out for the cuckoo…

Talking of that avian friend, Eric Fenby’s winning transcription of Fred. Delius’s best loved tone poem, On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring, is always a rare treat. Not sure I would use this ideal illustration of pantheist nature worship during liturgical services, though…

Percy Whitlock is well-loved by organ buffs. His impressionistic Carol (Four Extemporisations, No. 1) dating form 1933, has hat-tips to Delius and includes yet another brief appearance of the cuckoo. Malcolm Riley has noted its “Delian characteristic [including] pervasive chromatic voice leading, the use of the false relation and a wide-ranging meandering melody.”

I am not sure about Percy Grainger’s The Immovable Do (1933-1941) in this arrangement for organ by the man himself. It certainly sounds impressive at times, but not suitable for Evensong! It is an interesting “sonic experiment” which is part meditation and part technical warhorse. At its heart lies a single sustained pitch (doh/C), held (by a jammed down pencil in the keys) throughout the entire piece. This tonal anchor is secure while the surrounding harmonies shift and evolve: a symbol of stability amid change.

Peter Warlock’s Folk-Song Preludes is yet another transcription, this time by the present soloist, Alexander Pott. Originally written for piano around the end of the First World War, this collection of miniatures reimagines five traditional Celtic melodies, and provides them with subtle harmonies and finesse. The liner notes supply titles of the “found” tunes (where known). They are lovely, short pastoral evocations, which may be just too brief. Their overall mood is one of melancholy and introspection.

The final work on this imaginative disc is Ernest Austin’s Organ Sonata in G major (c.1935). Austin had a wide-ranging career, including as a baritone singer, an organist and as artistic director of the short lived British National Opera Company. He was also a professor of singing at the Royal Academy of Music. Recording projects over the past thirty years have seen editions of his Symphony in E minor, the Symphonic Rhapsody “Spring,” the cello sonata and the Overture: Sea Venturers.

Austin’s Organ Sonata was dedicated to Percy Whitlock; however, it is not known whether it was played by the dedicatee. It is in a single movement, written, I guess as a Sonata-Rondo. Certainly, there is a powerful recurring theme, interspersed with vibrant dance episodes and the occasional meditation. There are nods towards Whitlock. The liner notes explain that the first modern performance was given by Charles Matthews in 2022. This disc gives the work’s premiere recording. I hope that it gains traction in the organ loft, as it is a worthy piece.

Alexander Pott is a British organist, conductor, and scholar. His early training began as a chorister at Westminster Abbey, followed by organ studies at Christ Church, Oxford, and Westminster Cathedral. He later served as Assistant Organist and Tutor to the Choristers at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he played a key role in celebrating the installation of the new Eule organ - including performing the complete organ works of J. S. Bach over two terms, raising over £10,000 for charity. Pott is also the founder and director of The Delius Singers, a choir dedicated to exploring overlooked choral repertoire from the 19th and 20th centuries. His academic endeavour focuses on the music of Frederick Delius, the subject of his PhD at Cambridge.

The liner notes give a decent introduction to the recital. It would have been helpful to the listener if the dates of all the compositions/transcriptions had been given. There is a resume of the organist and a succinct history of the instrument. The all-important organ specification is included. The schematic diagram of the console and the stop arrangement is illegible.

This disc offers a satisfying portrait of the recent Eule organ’s expressive breadth and tonal sophistication. It presents a programme that is by turns solemn, whimsical, and richly evocative. Alexander Pott’s thoughtful programming and assured playing illuminate the instrument’s capacity to honour tradition and embrace innovation - from Liszt’s brooding grandeur to Whitlock’s pastoral charm. Though a Baroque inclusion might have rounded out the recital’s stylistic range, the disc nonetheless establishes Magdalen’s renewed musical vision.

Track Listing:
Franz Liszt (1811-86) arr. Jeanne Demessieux (1921-68)
Funérailles (1849)
Richard Wagner (1813-83) arr. Franz Liszt
Pilgrims' Chorus from Tannhäuser (1845), S. 676ii (??)
Carl Reinecke (1824-1910)
Organ Sonata in G minor, op. 284 (?)
Ethel Smyth (1858-1944)
Prelude & Fugue on ‘O Traurigkeit, O Herzeleid’ (1882-84)
Sigfrid Karg-Elert (1877-1933)
The Reed-grown Waters from Seven Pastels from the Lake Constance (c.1920)
Frederick Delius (1862-1934) arr. Eric Fenby (1906-97)
On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring (1912/1934)
Percy Whitlock (1903-46)
Carol (Four Extemporisations, No. 1) (1933)
Percy Grainger (1882-1961)
The Immovable Do (1933-1941)
Peter Warlock (1894-1930) arr. Alexander Pott (?)
Folk-Song Preludes (1918/?)
Frederic Austin (1872-1952)
Organ Sonata in G major (c.1935)
Alexander Pott (organ)
rec. 28-29 December 2024, Magdalen College Oxford
Convivium Records CR109 [2CDs: 88]

Ivor Gurney’s ‘Carol of the Skiddaw Yowes’: An Appreciation Part III

The song was first published in 1920 by Boosey and Co. In a letter to J.W. Haines dated 9 February 1921, Gurney states that he had received ‘very nice letter’ from the poet’s wife, ‘to acknowledge the Carol, and to say she likes it.’ (Collected Letters, 1991). The song was subsequently reprinted in 1925. It was included in A Heritage of 20th Century British Song: Vol 2 published by Boosey and Hawkes in 1977 and again in 1984. In 1988 Richard Graves arranged ‘Skiddaw Yowes’ for SATB. It was printed by Banks Music Publications, Sand Hutton, York.

It is strange that I can locate only a single current recording of the ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes.’ This was made by the baritone Benjamin Luxon and pianist David Willison back in 1990 and released on the Chandos label. The CD includes a good selection of songs by George Butterworth including Six Songs from ‘A Shropshire Lad’, ‘Bredon Hill and other songs’ and twenty numbers by Ivor Gurney. They are all beautifully sung, but as noted above, Luxon takes ‘Skiddaw Yowes’ at a jaunty pace.

The Lake District does not appear to have acted as inspiration for composers in quite the same way as Gloucestershire, Worcestershire and London.  Philip Scowcroft, writing for MusicWeb International has scoured the catalogues for works which evoke this inspiring landscape. 

The late Arthur Butterworth wrote a set of piano pieces entitled Lakeland Summer Nights, op.10 in 1949. One major work was Cecil Armstrong Gibbs’ Symphony No. 3 in B-Flat Major, Op. 104, ‘Westmorland’ composed in 1944. This is an impressive work that does not seem to have gained traction with concert promoters. The same composer produced Lakeland Pictures for piano solo, op.98 (1940).  Scowcroft mentions a chamber work by Cyril Rootham entitled In the Lake Country for violin (viola or cello) and piano (1924).  My personal favourite evocation of the Lake District is Maurice Johnstone’s impressionistic tone poem, Cumbrian Rhapsody: Tarn Hows (1951) Fortunately, a recording of this work was released in 1999 by ASV Whiteline label on CDWHL 2116. It is difficult to understand how such a recollective piece has not entered the concert hall and radio studios. In 1985, John McCabe wrote his Cloudcatcher Fells for brass band: this is a masterpiece of Lake District landscape ‘tone-painting.’ It has been recorded a few times.

I have always wanted to hear Samuel Hartley Braithwaite’s Symphonic Scherzo A Night by Dalegarth Bridge, first heard under the baton of Dan Godfrey at Bournemouth on 22 December 1920. It has a tantalising title and is surely deserving of revival.

Finally, one work that was never completed (sketches remain) was Edward Elgar’s Lakes Overture, sketched in the early 1880s. It would surely have been a great companion piece to the well-known Froissart Overture and the sun-drenched In the South.

Ivor Gurney’s ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes’ remains one of his most satisfying works. Its straightforwardness adds to the dramatic ‘haunting’ effect. As Michael Pilkington (1989) has noted, it is an ideal song for performance at Christmastide. It is one of the loveliest and most effective evocations of the Lake District and of the ‘shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.’

Brief Bibliography:
Blevins, Pamela, Ivor Gurney and Marion Scott: Song of Pain & Beauty (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2008)
Hold, Trevor, Parry to Finzi: Twenty English Song-Composers (Woodbridge, The Boydell Press, 2002)
Lancaster, Philip, ‘Ivor Gurney: Catalogue of Musical Works’, The Ivor Gurney Society Journal, (IGSJ) Volume 12, 2006.
Pilkington, Michael, Gurney, Ireland, Quilter and Warlock in the English Solo Song: Guides to the Repertoire (London, Thames Publishing, 1989)
Thornton, R.K.R. (editor), Ivor Gurney: Collected Letters (Manchester, Mid Northumberland Arts Group/Carcanet Press, 1991)
Walter, George, Chronology of Gurney’s Life and Work (http://www.geneva.edu/~dksmith/gurney/chronology.html) [Accessed 15/05/18]
The files of The Gramophone, Ivor Gurney Society Journal, etc 

Discography:
When I was One-and-Twenty: George Butterworth and Ivor Gurney Songs: Benjamin Luxon (baritone), David Willison (piano) (CHANDOS CHAN 8831 1990)

Concluded

With thanks to the Ivor Gurney Society Journal, Volume 23, 2017 where this essay was first published. 

 

 

 

Ivor Gurney’s ‘Carol of the Skiddaw Yowes’: An Appreciation Part II

Ivor Gurney composed his song ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes’ around Christmas 1919. The major event during May of that year had been the publication War’s Embers by Sidgwick and Jackson. In August, Gurney had submitted several poems to some important journals including The Century, The Athenæum, Harper’s Magazine, The New Witness and The Spectator. None were accepted. Almost as a consolation prize, he went on a walking holiday into the Welsh Black Mountains. He was accompanied by John Wilton Haines [J.W.H] who was to become the dedicatee of Gurney’s ‘Carol.’ Haines was a poet, solicitor and an amateur botanist living at Hucclecote, near Gloucester. He was acquainted with the Dymock Poets, including Robert Frost and Edward Thomas. After his holiday, Gurney moved to High Wycombe, where he was appointed organist at Christ Church, Crenden Street. He had held this position in 1914 before entering military service. George Walter’s chronology states that Gurney and F.W. Harvey visited the author and poet John Masefield at Boar’s Hill, Oxford during November.

Fig.1

The outstanding feature of Ivor Gurney’s setting of ‘Skiddaw Yowes’ is its subtle simplicity, reflecting the humble station of the shepherds. The song is ostensibly written in A minor: however, the melody is modal, which means that the notes F and G are ‘natural’ rather than ‘sharp.’ There is not a single accidental in the entire score. The vocal range is limited to the mid-range, extending from D’ to E”.  This makes it an ideal song for baritone or contralto singers. Gurney signed the music to be played ‘quasi andante’ which is a little ambiguous. It means ‘almost’ or ‘nearly’ moderately slow or ‘walking pace.’ In fact, the only recording of this song takes a slightly faster pace than this instruction implies.

The ‘Carol’ utilises the same melody for all three verses, with some slight variants demanded by the text. Metrically, the song is interesting. Largely written in 2/4 time, there is the occasional bar of 3/4 ‘waltz’ time. This invariably occurs at the end of the last line of each verse before reverting to the original time signature on the final syllable.

Fig.2

Typically, the melody moves by step and small ‘skips’, though there are two melodic intervals that stand out in the vocal line of each stanza. The opening anacrusis leap of a fourth (E-A) (Fig.1) and the haunting upward perfect fifth (G-D) at the end of the fourth line of each verse – e.g. ‘falling down’ (Fig.2). The melody then rises to the highest note, E which is reserved for the word ‘Jesu’ where it is sung on the first syllable falling by step onto the D for the second (Fig.2). This is heard in all three verses.

The Scotch Snap is a prominent feature of this song. It is used in several places, to accommodate words that can be sung with a short, followed by a long, syllable. For example, ‘Skiddaw’, ‘Redder,’ ‘Shepherds’ (Fig.1) and ‘Falling’ (Fig.2). This gives an attractive lilt, which is an important characteristic of this song.

The ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes’ is sung quietly with the dynamic never rising above mezzo-piano (mp). Each stanza ends pianissimo (pp). The accompaniment reflects the relatively simple nature of the song melody. This piano part is largely chordal, often based on parallel first inversion triads, supported by a rocking bass. Dissonance is mild with little beyond added 6^th and major 7^th chords. There are virtually no rests. 

Brief Bibliography:
Blevins, Pamela, Ivor Gurney and Marion Scott: Song of Pain & Beauty (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2008)
Hold, Trevor, Parry to Finzi: Twenty English Song-Composers (Woodbridge, The Boydell Press, 2002)
Lancaster, Philip, ‘Ivor Gurney: Catalogue of Musical Works’, The Ivor Gurney Society Journal, (IGSJ) Volume 12, 2006.
Pilkington, Michael, Gurney, Ireland, Quilter and Warlock in the English Solo Song: Guides to the Repertoire (London, Thames Publishing, 1989)
Thornton, R.K.R. (editor), Ivor Gurney: Collected Letters (Manchester, Mid Northumberland Arts Group/Carcanet Press, 1991)
Walter, George, Chronology of Gurney’s Life and Work (http://www.geneva.edu/~dksmith/gurney/chronology.html) [Accessed 27/08/25]
The files of The Gramophone, Ivor Gurney Society Journal, etc

To be continued...

With thanks to the Ivor Gurney Society Journal, Volume 23, 2017 where this essay was first published. 

 

Ivor Gurney’s ‘Carol of the Skiddaw Yowes’: An Appreciation Part I

Many years ago, in the National Galleries of Scotland, Edinburgh, I discovered a Nativity scene by the Scottish artist William Bell Scott (1811-90). This had been painted around 1872. The artist had used the landscape of south Ayrshire as his inspiration. This Nativity was set in a dilapidated barn near Penkill Castle. In the background can be seen the rural lowland Scottish landscape: one of the approaching shepherds is playing the bagpipes. It was this painting that made me realise that the Nativity is universal. European Renaissance painters had set it in their local landscapes, both rural and urban. So why not Ayrshire, or anywhere?

In his poem ‘The Carol of Skiddaw Yowes’, the Lake District poet Edmund Casson made the ‘translation’ from the fields (fellside) around Bethlehem to the slopes of Skiddaw in Cumberland. Michael Pilkington, (1989) has summed up the mood of this ‘carol’ as the ‘Shepherds on Skiddaw in the Lake District pray for warmth and protection in the cold of Christmas-tide.’

The Carol of Skiddaw Yowes

The shepherds on the fellside

That is by Bethany,

Had not on finger

Redder blains than we:

Jesu that is God's light,

Warm us in the cold night.

The yowes that men were minding

Long and long ago,

Were not more like to die

Than ours in the snow:

Jesu, that knows Thy sheep,

Skiddaw yowes tend and keep.

The angels that were singing,

Long and long agone,

Were not a whiter host

Than snow-flakes falling down;

Jesu, the true fold,

Gird us on the rocks cold.

Skiddaw (3054 ft) is one of the highest mountains in the Lake District. I have climbed it on two occasions: the first was on a warm summer’s day when the view from the summit was hidden in heat haze. The second was on a bitterly cold day at the end of October. The vista from the summit was stunning. With my binoculars, I could just about make out Snowdonia well over 110 miles away. Nearer at hand was the Isle of Man, the Mull of Galloway in southern Scotland and The Cheviot in Northumberland. I would be imagining what I saw, if I included the hills above Belfast and Goatfell on the Island of Arran. However, keen-eyed climbers have spotted these distant places on an exceptionally clear day.

The poet Thomas Edmund Casson was born during January 1883 at Vale View, Pennington near Ulverston, in the old county of Lancashire. His father was a local grocer and sub postmaster.  Casson was educated at Trent College in Derby, before going up to Merton College in Oxford.

During 1911 he was an assistant schoolmaster at Keswick School. The following year, Casson married a local woman, Margaret Macintyre.

Edmund Casson’s first book, A Ballad of Urswick Tarn was issued in 1905 by Ulverston publisher James Atkinson (Caxton Printing Works).  His next literary work was A Masque of King Dunmail, which had been ‘designed [for], and shall be presented, by members of Keswick School, May 1912.’ Two years later, Masques and Poems was published by Erskine MacDonald of London. This short book contained the present ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes.’ It would have been from this volume that Ivor Gurney took the text for his song. 

Subsequent books included The Wise Kings of Borrowdale (1927), The Red Rose of Lancashire (1928), Lord Derwentwater’s Fate and other poems (1930), The Tragedy of King Aella (1944), and George Fox, a poem (1947). In 1938 Frederick Warne published a collection of Casson’s poetry. Thomas Edmund Casson died in Ulverston during February 1960.

Interestingly, the score of the ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes’ wrongly attributes the text to Ernest Casson.

The poem is written in three regular stanzas, each with six lines. The rhyming scheme is interesting: ABCBDD. This is the same structure as W.B. Yeats’s used in his iconic ‘The Wild Swans at Coole.’ Yeats’ poem first appeared in the June 1917 edition of the Little Review: Casson’s Carol was published in 1914.

The ‘Carol of Skiddaw Yowes’ is written largely in standard English, with one or two Cumbrian dialect words. That said, these locutions are not exclusive to Cumbria. Clearly, the most obvious are the words ‘yowes’ and ‘blains.’  ‘Yowes’ (pronounced here to rhyme with ‘yews’) is a little more complicated. Enthusiasts of Robert Burns will know the beautiful song ‘Ca the yowes/To the Knowes’ which was collected and edited by the poet around 1794.  In Burns, the appropriate rhyme would be with ‘cows.’ ‘Yowes’ can refer to sheep in general or ‘ewes.’ ‘Blains’ means an inflammatory swelling, ‘chapped hands’ or ‘blisters.’  ‘Agone’ is an archaic word which simply means ‘ago.’  The final line of the poem begins with the word ‘gird.’ In this sense it means ‘surround us’, being a possible metaphor for a stone sheepfold.

The most remarkable allusion is contained in the lines: ‘The angels that were singing…Were not a whiter host/Than snow-flakes falling down.’ The most significant cultural transition from Bethany to Skiddaw is the presence of snow in Casson’s poem.  It is true that snow falls occasionally in Palestine, but more often in Cumberland. Producers of Christmas cards frequently depict Mary, Joseph, the Magi and the Shepherds in a snow scene. This is artistic license, a conceit. Another critical difference is the sheep themselves. Skiddaw ‘yowes’ provide both wool for clothes and meat for the table. The shepherds at Bethlehem would have overseen a flock of sheep for sacrificial purposes at the Temple in Jerusalem.

Finally, Trevor Hold (2002) has drawn attention to the fact that the North Country of Casson’s poem is ‘reminiscent’ of the nativity sequence in the Wakefield Mystery Cycle:

Lord what these weders ar cold: and I am yll happyd [wrapped]

I am nere hand dold: so long haue I nappyd

My legys thay fold: my fyngers ar chappyd...

Brief Bibliography:

Blevins, Pamela, Ivor Gurney and Marion Scott: Song of Pain & Beauty (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2008)
Hold, Trevor, Parry to Finzi: Twenty English Song-Composers (Woodbridge, The Boydell Press, 2002)
Lancaster, Philip, ‘Ivor Gurney: Catalogue of Musical Works’, The Ivor Gurney Society Journal, (IGSJ) Volume 12, 2006.
Pilkington, Michael, Gurney, Ireland, Quilter and Warlock in the English Solo Song: Guides to the Repertoire (London, Thames Publishing, 1989)
Thornton, R.K.R. (editor), Ivor Gurney: Collected Letters (Manchester, Mid Northumberland Arts Group/Carcanet Press, 1991)
Walter, George, Chronology of Gurney’s Life and Work (http://www.geneva.edu/~dksmith/gurney/chronology.html) [Accessed 27/08/25]
The files of The Gramophone, Ivor Gurney Society Journal, etc

To be continued...

With thanks to the Ivor Gurney Society Journal, Volume 23, 2017 where this essay was first published. 

Huddersfield’s Harmonious Grandmaster

Whilst recently thumbing through From Anecdotes of Great Musicians by W. Francis Gates (1895), I came across this short tale about Walter Parratt. Gates (p.276) wrote:

“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.”

Sir Walter Parratt, born in Huddersfield on 10 February 1841, was a distinguished organist, composer, and teacher whose influence resonated across British musical life. A precocious child, he was appointed organist of Armitage Bridge Church, Huddersfield aged just eleven years.

Over the course of his long life, Parratt held a succession of prestigious posts, including organist at Magdalen College, Oxford, and later at St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle, where he served with distinction for more than forty years. In 1893, he was named Master of the Queen’s Musick to Queen Victoria, continuing in the role under Kings Edward VII and George V. He had already been knighted in 1892 and was subsequently honoured with several appointments within the Royal Victorian Order. Other positions included Heather Professor of Music at Oxford and president of the Royal College of Organists.

Apart from music, he was a great enthusiast of chess…