The Complete C.W. Orr Songbook-Volume 1

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. 

Track Listing:

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

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

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 son, Hank, 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.

Tracklisting:
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
CHANDOS 10713

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review first appeared.

The Letters and Diaries of Kathleen Ferrier: New Edition

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.  

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

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

Arnold Bax on E.J. Moeran Part II

Moeran's life may be said to have been divided into two clearly cut parts. During his first thirty or so years, he was an Englishman and a diligent collector of East Anglian folk-tunes, [1] whilst for the remainder of his days he was almost exclusively Irish. It was, I would say, about twenty years ago that his consciousness of his Celtic heredity was suddenly aroused. His father (‘a very nice old man’, according to his son) originally came from Cork. (By the way, the Irish nearly always pronounce the name Moeran as Morawn, with the accent on the second syllable. This is probably correct, for in Munster Gaelic the stress usually falls on the end of a word and "a" is heard as ‘aw’. But the composer, and his family, called themselves Moran, as does Lord Moran, I believe.)

Kenmare, where Jack made his Kerry home, is in reality little more than a village picturesquely grouped about the shores of the so-called river, (the name Kenmare means Head of the Sea), with the mountains rearing their austere peaks at the back of the main street. (An English visitor once fantastically confided to us that it reminded him of Innsbruck.) Moeran took an almost proprietary interest in the effect the Kerry scenery made upon the stranger. It was amusing to watch the eagerness of his face as we motored a newcomer up the Kenmare-Killarney road to Windy Gap, where the three lakes and the McGillycuddy Reeks burst into astounding view in a single breathless instant. Jack's predilection for the Irish (or rather Kerry) scene must have been wholly instinctive and emotional. He knew nothing of Irish history, nothing of the heroic legends, nothing of the Celtic literary renaissance. He took no interest in the language revival. Very wisely he refused to take part in any discussion of Irish politics, even if he was ever more than dimly aware that such matters for violent debate existed.

He was not in any sense well read and was, in fact, like Mozart, an almost perfect example of the pure musician. Like Mozart too, he was greatly addicted to billiards. But he knew and loved the Kerry people and understood unerringly how to get on with them. His friendly and unpretentiously   straightforward manner was precisely the same whether he was in the company of a brewery peer, a hotel boots, a priest, an out-at-elbows tramp, or even a drink-sodden and bellicose tinker at Puck Fair in Killorglin [2]. The people of Kenmare adored him. One of them remarked to me: ‘If there was ever a move to elect a mayor of this town Jack Moeran would be everyone's-first choice’. His popularity was immense, even; it must be admitted, sometimes to the point of embarrassment.

I recall an occasion when he and I were in the billiards-room of the Lansdowne Arms [3] and just about to start a game. Into the bar, which was next door and the only passage known to us to the main part of the hotel, there was a sudden irruption of some dozen of Moeran's town friends, all of them in a state of artificial exuberance and all of them anxious, I knew, to force liquid hospitality upon my companion if he could be found. It was only II in the morning and neither he nor I was in convivial mood.

We heard a voice cry, ‘Where is Jack Moeran?’ and glanced apprehensively at one another before searching desperately for a means of escape. By great good fortune we discovered behind a screen a narrow staircase that we had never before noticed. Silently we put away our cues, darted up the stairs and, after much furtive scuffling through box-rooms and attics, found our way to the front door of the hotel and comparative security. Everyone who knew Jack liked him, for he could have had no enemy. Kenmare must have been mourning him, and if the ancient keen were still to be heard in Kerry, as it was when I was young, it would surely have been wailed over the dead body of the village's old friend. His was a simple soul, and a lovable one. Ave atque vale! [4]

Footnotes

[1] For example his Six Folksongs from Norfolk (1923) and his Six Suffolk Folksongs (1931)

[2] Puck Fair, Killorglin. It is thought that the fair started in pre-Christian times as a celebration for a good harvest. The goat may also represent the pagan god, Pan. It is also likely that it is a representation of the Celtic god Lugh and a celebration of Lugnasa (Wikipedia accessed 10/03/12)

[3] Lansdowne Arms, Kenmare. The 3 star Lansdowne Arms Hotel is a beautiful Victorian style Kenmare hotel built 1790. It is an oasis of tranquillity and elegance, situated in the heart of the picturesque town of Kenmare Co Kerry in Kenmare Bay on the famous Ring of Kerry, and the rugged Ring of Beara, just about a 30 minute drive south of Killarney town on the N71 in Co Kerry. (Webpage for Lansdowne Hotel – accessed 10/4/12)

[4] Ave atque vale! Hail and Farewell

Arnold Bax on E.J. Moeran Part I

This is an excellent appreciation of E.J. Moeran written by fellow composer Arnold Bax. I present t in two parts. Moeran had died suddenly in Kenmare, Ireland on 1 December 1950, most likely from a cerebral hemorrhage. He was aged 55.  

It must have been in the summer of 1919 that I was invited to an evening party somewhere in Kensington or Chelsea: I forget which. These localities always seemed to me, a North Londoner at the time, so remote and foreign that whenever I emerged from the Underground at High Street or Sloane Square I half-expected to hear the aboriginals speaking an alien tongue.

Before starting out that evening, I had become involved in a futile and miserable quarrel with an old friend, and as I reached the doors of the house where the party was to be given my mind was not a little disintegrated and I felt in no mood to entertain or to be entertained. However, only a few minutes after my arrival I found myself conversing appreciatively with as charming and as good-looking a young officer as one could hope to meet. This was my first encounter with Jack Moeran [1] and the beginning of a close friendship which was to continue unbroken until the tragic day when his body was found in the Kenmare River. (It may be mentioned that this is not, strictly speaking, a river at all, but a long arm of the sea.)

At the time of our earliest acquaintance he was about to be demobilized after serving in the army all through the war and, in the course of it, suffering a head wound to the after-effects of which may perhaps be attributed a certain instability in his character later on.

He told me that he was a pupil of John Ireland, whom he always declared to be a most painstaking and conscientious teacher. Ireland himself reciprocated Moeran's respect and thought very highly of the latter's gifts as a composer. He had every right to be proud of his pupil. One of the first of Jack's works to be played and published was the Sonata for Violin and Piano (1923) given at a recital by Désiré Defauw [2] and Harriet Cohen. It was rehearsed one evening before a small audience in Harriet's music-room in Wyndham Place, and amongst those present was Arnold Bennett [3], a true and sensitive music-lover, though he had, I think, no technical knowledge of the art. There came a moment in the rehearsal when Moeran rose and diffidently interrupted the players in order to suggest some slight alteration in the nuance of their interpretation. Hearing strange sounds beside me I turned to Bennett and found him in the throes of his curious stammer, his head thrown back, eyes closed, and one hand sawing the air gently to assist articulation. Then shrilly: ‘He-e-e-e's m-making " (pause-and with a rush) " a noise like a composer!’

Jack, in those earlier days, was a steady and prolific worker. Later his composition became intermittent, though when he did get down to it he filled the pages of his scores with astonishing rapidity and ease. He was one of the last of the true romantics. All his work from first to last is characterized by a deep love of nature. Certainly he was often derivative, and from time to time Delius, Vaughan Williams and Sibelius all held sway over his medium of expression. He wrote so fluently that he probably did not realize his occasional indebtedness to his predecessors. I well remember his perturbation when I pointed out to him that a passage in his symphony bore a remarkable resemblance to the famous whirlwind in Tapiola. [3] But he had his own distinctive musical personality as well, witness the unworldly Western-Irish lights that seemed to glimmer down upon the pages of that same symphony, the second movement of the violin concerto, the piano piece ‘The Lake Island'; and witness too the delicately distilled suggestions of native folk idiom heard in these works.

Music and Letters April 1952 with minor edits

Footnotes

[1] Ernest John Moeran (1894 -1950) was generally known to his friends as ‘Jack.’

[2] Désiré Defauw (1885-1960) Belgian conductor and violinist.

[3] Arnold Bennett (1867-1931) English novelist and journalist. Noted for his evocative novels set in The Potteries, Staffordshire.

[4] Tapiola, Op.112 is a tone poem by Jean Sibelius composed in 1926.  Tapio was the animating spirit of the forest. 

John Holliday: Punchinello.

This is one of my favourite pieces of light music. I have always had a soft spot for Mr. Punch and his antics in the seaside Punch & Judy show. Although I accept that much of it would probably be regarded as politically incorrect by the liberal elite, it has given pleasure to many children of all ages. Punchinello was regarded as a forerunner of Mr. Punch.  Originally, he was a clown from Italian burlesque or puppet shows.

John Cottam Holliday is a bit of an unknown quantity. Fortunately, Philip Scowcroft has provided the listener with a few biographical notes. Holliday was born in London in 1897 and subsequently studied at the Guildhall School.  His main musical contribution was as a solo pianist and chorus master at the Drury Lane Theatre. He served in the army during both world wars.  The date of his death is unknown to me.

Many of Holliday’s pieces appear to have been composed with children in mind. However, there is nothing childish about Punchinello.

Lasting just over two mines this work is delight. It opens with a bassoon solo which is taken up by the orchestra and is passed between strings and woodwind.  The ‘march trio’ is a catchy little number complete with glockenspiel. The cello reiterate the opening bassoon tune before the work closes rather unexpectedly with a ‘forte’ chord.

Finally, according to Philip Scowcroft the tune was orchestrated by Arthur Wood of Barwick Green fame.

As far as I am aware, John Holliday’s Punchinello is currently only available on The Queen’s Hall Light Orchestra Volume 2. This is available from Dutton Epoch.

Spike Hughes, Edward Elgar and Venice

Spike Hughes was an all round musician. He is perhaps best remembered (where remembered at all) for his jazz recordings. However, his ‘serious’ music was influenced more by the Second Viennese School and Egon Wellesz rather than the ‘pastoral ruminations’ of the English Musical Renaissance. I present a short extract from the first part of his entertaining autobiography, Opening Bars. It is interesting to come across someone who is not an Elgar enthusiast. I do not agree with all that he says however, it makes a good antidote to some of the more extravagant claims about Elgar’s music.

"On the occasion of the visit of the British Mediterranean Fleet to Venice [1], the Piazza [2] band launched out into a special arrangement of Elgar’s Enigma Variations. The sailors in whose honour it was played were mostly dead drunk and well out of hearing, the smarter English visitors were out on the Lido at the Excelsior [3]…

…but the gesture was not lost on me. I stood reverently listening to the band, trying to make something of the music of a composer who was completely foreign to me and feeling greatly relieved when it was all over and the Enigma was followed by the ‘Dance of the Seven Veils’. [4]

Perhaps it is too much to expect to be able to appreciate Elgar in such circumstances; a naval band, however brilliant, is hardly the medium through which to hear the music of a man who was a fine orchestrator. On the other hand, I first made acquaintance with a large part of Othello, Ermani and Manon Lescaut [5] on the same Piazza and what I heard presented no difficulties.  It was all music which came naturally to me and which I understood instinctively.

Even today, twenty years after my first introduction to English music, I still have trouble coping with what my contemporaries consider to be [the] masterpieces of the English Renaissance. I can manage Elgar for he is so thoroughly professional in his technique and his blatantly pompous vulgarity; I can even suppress my nausea on reading his instruction to play nobilmente, [6] though I feel that it is up to the listener, not the composer, to decide whether a tune is ‘noble’ or not, especially as Beethoven was content to ask for no more than that the slow movement of the Ninth should be ‘adagio molto e cantabile.’ But for the rest I beg to be excused from the interminable rhapsodies on folk tines, the dullness of ‘contemplative’ slow movements and awkward, self-conscious heartiness.

It is an astonishing thing, this lack of genuine virility in so much English music. Elgar, with all his faults, had guts… who thought about the English countryside in terms or rolling hills, rich trees and haystacks… [7]

It is this Elgar, frank and genuine one moment, moody and introspective the next, who stands head and shoulders above his countrymen, the Elgar who wrote the Rondo of the Second Symphony and some (but not all) of Falstaff.

The Elgar who really gets me down is the composer of the opening of the First Symphony. Here the ‘nobilmentality’ gets out of hand a little too much. Yes, yes, I know it’s ‘sincere’; but sincerity does not excuse music though it may easily explain it…

Though my introduction to Elgar’s music in Venice may have puzzled me, and the Enigma Variations have lived up to their title a little too literally I was not downcast by the experience. Within a few days of the event I had packed a suit-case and set off for Salzburg to attend the International Contemporary Music Festival." [8]

Spike Hughes Opening Bars London Pilot Press 1946 [with minor edits]

Footnotes

[1] Probably the Third Light Cruiser Squadron

[2] The Piazza San Marco in Venice. This was and still is the home to the famous Caffe Florian’ orchestra

[3] The Lido is a sandbar located to the east of Venice. One of the more famous hotels there is The Excelsior.

[4] ‘Dance of the Seven Veils’ from Richard Strauss’s opera Salome (1905)

[5] Othello, Giuseppe Verdi (1887),  Ermani (1844) and Manon Lescaut Giacomo Puccini (1893)

[6] ‘Nobilmente’ was a musical direction often used by Edward Elgar.  It means played in a ‘noble’ style or even ‘majestically.’

[7] I have deliberately omitted a couple of sentences here. The sentiment would no doubt have appeared amusing when written; however, in my opinion is now unduly sexist.

[8] The first International Festival of Contemporary Music was held at Salzburg in August 1922.  British works performed included Arthur Bliss’ Rout, songs by Arnold Bax, Eugene Goossens and Gustav Holst.

Frederick Delius: A Dance Rhapsody – An Analytical Note

I was delighted to find this short programme note of Delius’s Dance Rhapsody. Further to my postings about Thomas Beecham’s performance of this work in the Free Trade Hall at Manchester it is worthwhile to post it here.

It was included in Rosa Newmarch's The Concert-Goer's Library (six volumes, 1928–48) which is a collection of her programme notes, arranged by musical form. In this case Volume 3, p.97. (1930). It was probably written for a Proms Concert. Alas, it is not possible to identify which one, short of trawling through the programme notes in a library. Dance Rhapsody was performed 14 times between 1912 and 1930. It may have been the first, on 15 October 1912 as they often reused notes over several seasons.

THIS work was first performed at the Hereford Festival of 1909, having been written the previous year. It is scored for a large modern orchestra, including a heckelphone.  It opens with a short ‘Introduction’ (Lento), in which the cor anglais, bass-oboe (or heckelphone), and horn fore shadow some of the subjects to come. The first of these is given by the oboe in 'easy dance movement'. The second, a brief two-bar phrase for the flute, returns from time to time. The first theme is repeated by clarinet, and the second by cor anglais. These materials are developed by various instruments with much that is charming and original in the scoring and harmonization. A change of tempo to ‘vivo’ (almost twice as quick') brings a fresh theme, introduced by the basses (strings and wind); a second being given later by the violins in octaves. Both these motives are now discussed, oboe and cor anglais dealing with them as solos. A figure presented by the 'cellos and double-basses, and echoed by wood-wind, is afterwards developed and emphasized by trumpets and horns. Further on two of the subjects are worked in combination. A diminuendo and rallentando lead to the recapitulation of the first principal subject, in slower time, by flute and clarinet in octaves, with accompaniment for strings, and afterwards repeated in a more rapid tempo by first violins and violas. This is also treated by other instruments, trumpets included, and a vigorous climax is built up. In a section headed ‘molto adagio’ a solo violin next presents a rhythmically modified version of the subject, accompanied by muted strings only, which are sub-divided. This is followed by quotations of other thematic material by clarinet and bass-oboe. There is now a return to ‘molto vivo’, and the principal theme is given out by the strings with great energy, the brass having an equally vigorous accompaniment. The melodies used strike one as being thoroughly English in character, while their treatment is that of a musician versed in all schools and imitative of none.

Rosa Newmarch  (Minor edits)

The Golden Age of Light Music: Holidays for Strings

The mood of this excellent disc is summed up in its title and the nostalgic picture on the CD cover. It is one of the sad features of life that so many lidos have disappeared from our seaside towns. The present picture is from a London & North Eastern Railway poster advertising Clacton-on-Sea Butlin’s Holiday Camp. Alas, this camp closed in 1983 and I guess that all traces of the lido have long disappeared. Yet, one can recover the fun and the sun of holidays past in the tracks on this disc.

I usually divide the musical content of ‘light’ music into two parts. Firstly, there are the arrangements of other works – often songs from the shows, film music and sometimes even the classics. And then there are the pieces that were especially written and provided with evocative titles. These may be ‘concert’ pieces or used in newsreels or documentaries.  Both ‘genres’ appear on this CD

Considering first the arrangements, the proceedings get off to a sunny start with music from the film Monte Carlo – ‘Beyond the Blue Horizon’. Then George Gershwin provides the tune for an upbeat version of ‘Love is Sweeping the Country’ played by the ever popular Frederick Fennel and his Orchestra. There is great brass work here and good percussion too.  Borodin’s contribution to popular music is his unforgettable ‘Stranger in Paradise’ which all music snobs know was taken from the opera Prince Igor. ‘Thanks for the Memory’ and ‘Adios’ are given a characteristic swing by Geoff Love and his orchestra.  Gigi is a film that has captured the hearts of young and old for more than fifty years: the Parisian magic is created by the main theme played here.  ‘Perfidia’ by the Mexican Alberto Borras Dominguez is perfectly fitted to this particular faithless, treacherous and false lady.

Richard Rogers ‘The Most Beautiful Girl in the World’ is given an attractive and slightly ‘dipsy’ treatment. And ‘Then you may take me to the Fair’ from Lerner and Loewe’s Camelot is powerfully treated.  I am not sure whether Cliff Friend and Charles Tobias’ ‘Time waits for Me’ is an arrangement, but it is a good, romantic tune. I did not know the music from the film The Rebel which was composed by Frank Cordell. Certainly in ‘Oo-La-La’ the sights and sounds of a typical Parisian evening are effectively created. The theme from the cult film The Singer not the Song that starred Dirk Bogarde and John Mills has a sultry Spanish mood.

The mood pieces begin with the master of syncopation Leroy Anderson’s Belle of the Ball. Even a flat-footed person like me would like to dance with her. Our own George Martin of Beatles fame has written an upbeat Serenade to Double Scotch that parodies Caledonian music and is a million miles away from A Hard Day’s Night. Great stuff- with a little stagger too.  I do not know who or what Cumana by Barclay Allen and Roc Hillman, is or was – but this is a hard hitting piece of light music that has a touch of Spanish and a lot of percussion. Fortunately Cyril Watters calms the mood down with his romantic Willow Waltz. Romance is in the air again with Percy Faith’s Bouquet: this is certainly a love song written for a beautiful lady.  Spending Spree by Andy Burlow was written before the advent of the flexible friend, but we get the gist of this fast-moving walk down Regent Street – or Deansgate, Manchester. I can just see the ladies and gentlemen, laden with parcels emerging from the doors of Liberty’s or Kendall Milne’s. Angela Morley has restored us to innocence with her chirpy Nurseryland. Good part for bassoon here.  Pat Beaver and Tony King allow us to be On the Loose again: hopefully not spending too much more money. This is a hugely upbeat piece that evokes all kinds of mental images of days gone by.  I do not know who Vanessa was, but the way that Bernie Wayne portrays her she does seem a little wayward. However, there is a touch of romance in her too. Steve Race has created an image of holidays in the Mediterranean with his gorgeous Faraway Music. I guess the balalaika situates it somewhere in Greece? Sometimes we just have to head back to base. Robert Farnon’s Strolling Home presents an image of someone who is not quite sure that the fun for the evening is over. Periwinkle by Frank Sterling is pure fun. Jeunesse is a piece that has youth at heart: Anthony Mawer writes a number that is both optimistic and a touch wistful. Light music enthusiasts will all know Edward White’s Runaway Rocking Horse and he has achieved a similar fresh open air piece of music with his Romance in the Breeze. Finally David Rose (of The Stripper fame) has given holiday music to beat all holiday music- Holiday for Strings. This piece epitomises the excitement of heading off in the Ford Anglia or on the Cornish Riviera Express for the annual fortnight by the sea. All the hopes and dreams of fun and romance are here. A great conclusion to a fine section of music.

Most of these works were recorded in the late fifties and early sixties. Many of them are in ‘stereo.’ David Ades has done an excellent job in repristinating these tracks which have been gleaned from a wide variety of records. He also provides the outstanding liner notes. All the details of the pieces, their composers (though, I do wish they would give the dates for all the composers) and arrangers are present and correct. This is yet another fine addition to the ever increasing number of CDs in ‘The Golden Age of Light Music’ series. Long may they continue!

The Golden Age of Light Music: Holidays for Strings

Guild Light Music GLCD5189 ADD [79:08

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review first appeared.  

Thirty Five Years of Gilbert & Sullivan: Henry A. Lytton.

I came across this short essay by the D’Oly Carte singer and actor Henry A. Lytton (1865-1936). It had been published in October 1925 under editorship of Percy Pitt [1].  It is a good personal insight into life with D’Oly Carte and also his relationship with W.S.  Gilbert. I have included a few footnotes and have made some slight edits to the text.

Thirty Five years is a long time to have played the same parts, and I am sometimes asked whether I am not tired of them? Probably I should be if they belonged to anything else except the Gilbert and Sullivan operas. But I never tire of these. They are so perfect from every point of view; they are such a wonderful blend of everything that should be there, that they seem to have eternal freshness and the capacity to keep one's interest constantly alive.

The public takes very much the same view. One might imagine that the enthusiasm shown for these operas in years past could not be exceeded. The D' Oyly Carte Company, in its travels,

visits a particular town and breaks its previous records there; the limit appears to have been reached. Yet when the town is revisited records are broken again. So it goes on all over the country.

The older people who have been listening to the operas for thirty or forty years flock to the theatres as if taking part in a yearly ritual; the younger ones go to see if all the fuss is justified, and quickly become as enthusiastic as their elders. Many people keep a record of their attendances. Often enough, while making my way through crowds at the stage-door,

someone has shouted to me: ‘Good old Lytton! This is my fortieth time at The Mikado.’

I know a man at Liverpool who books two stalls for every performance during our season here. He invites a friend to dinner and theatre each evening.

One night, unfortunately, he found the odd man who does not like Gilbert and Sullivan. The opera was Patience, and when I came on as Bunthorne he asked what my part was. ‘That is Bunthorne, a poet,’ he was told. Then Grosvenor entered. ‘Who is he?’ was his next

question. ‘He is another poet,’ was the reply. What, two poets in one opera?’ he exclaimed. ‘I've had enough of this!’ and out he went.

Perhaps Irish audiences are the most demonstrative of all. They do not merely applaud, but shout and cheer at the top of their voices, and simply insist upon I had not been on the stage more than a few minutes before I felt glad that he encore after encore. But the enthusiasm

everywhere is tremendous. We members of the company always feel that our audiences and ourselves belong to one big family: that there is an atmosphere of friendliness in front and that even if we do make a slight slip we shall be forgiven

More than one actor has found a decided change on leaving to join another company. He misses immediately the Gilbert and Sullivan ‘goodwill’ if I may give it that name; the constantly crowded houses, and the never-failing appreciation.

I remember that when I left the company many years ago, to take part in the new production of The Earl and the Girl [2] at the Adelphi, Walter Passmore [3] said on the opening night:

‘Let me say a friendly word to you. Don't lose heart if you don't find the usual enthusiasm. You've really got to start all over again here. You won't begin with a friendly atmosphere; you'll have to manufacture it.’

I had not been on the stage more than a few minutes before I felt glad that he had spoken to me. How different from the infectious enthusiasm of a Gilbert and Sullivan audience! The piece was a big success, but I have never forgotten the chilly ordeal of the first few nights.

It is all a great tribute to the Savoy operas. The goodwill of the public has not been won without reason: only a combination of circumstances of the rarest kind could have brought it into existence. It is late in the day to heap fresh praises upon the extraordinarily perfect blend of music and libretto, but perhaps I may speak of the great personal care which Gilbert bestowed upon the production of the operas.

His knowledge of stagecraft was remarkable, and this stood him in excellent stead. He has sometimes been spoken of as a martinet. I knew him for many years, and never found him anything but a perfect. English gentleman, kindly and considerate in every action. As an example of his thoughtfulness, he always arranged, if it were humanly possible, that an actor's entrances and exits should be on the side of the stage nearest to his dressing-room.

What that means in the course of an evening only an actor knows. Yet he could be satirical to a degree when it suited him, as all the principals of the company at the time knew. I had an

experience of it during a rehearsal of Ruddigore.

My part was that of Robin Oakapple, a nephew whom his uncle tells at a certain point to leave. I wondered how I should make my exit, and, turning to Gilbert, asked him how he thought it should be done.

“Oh, exit like a nephew," he said, without a smile. I had asked a rather silly question, and Gilbert gave me what he considered a suitable reply.

The late George Grossmith [4] once suggested to him that if certain ‘business’ were introduced it would make the audience laugh.

“So it would if you sat down on a pork pie," was the dry reply.

Gilbert knew exactly what he wanted, and insisted upon having it. The operas are still presented as he directed, and so they will continue to be.

Musical Masterpieces, October 1925

Footnotes

[1] Percy Pitt (1870-1932) English organist, composer and conductor.  From 1926 to 1930 he was General Musical Director of the BBC.

[2] The Earl and the Girl is a musical comedy in two acts by Seymour Hicks, with lyrics by Percy Greenbank and music by Ivan Caryll. It was produced by William Greet and opened at the Adelphi Theatre in London on 10 December 1903. It transferred to the Lyric Theatre on 12 September 1904, running for a total of 371 performances. (Wikipedia accessed 17/3/12)

[3] Walter Henry Passmore (10 May 1867 – 29 August 1946) was an English singer and actor best known as the first successor to George Grossmith in the comic baritone roles in Gilbert and Sullivan operas with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company. (Wikipedia accessed 17/3/12)

[4] George Grossmith (9 December 1847 – 1 March 1912) was an English comedian, writer, composer, actor, and singer. His performing career spanned more than four decades. As a writer and composer, he created 18 comic operas, nearly 100 musical sketches, some 600 songs and piano pieces, three books and both serious and comic pieces for newspapers and magazines. (Wikipedia accessed 17/3/12)