Parry Day at the Royal College of Music-25 June 2009

I never need an excuse to go to the Royal College of Music. Just to be in or even near the great building allows me to connect with the great procession of composers and musicians, from Sir George Grove down through the years to the current students, by way of Parry, Stanford, Vaughan Williams and a host of others. Typically my visits are to make use of the fine library but sometimes a concert is the objective. However on Thursday 25 June it was special. The College had organised a ‘Parry Day’. Readers of these pages will know that Charles Hubert Hasting Parry was not only a great composer, but was also the second and perhaps the most significant director of the RCM.
The day was planned as a celebration of both the man and his music. It was held in the rather warm Recital Room at the back of the college, yet in spite of the temperature, this was an ideal venue - being both large enough for the 60-odd folk who turned up during the day and to allow a sense of intimacy between performers, lecturers and audience.
One of the key activities at these events is the ‘networking.’ It is not necessary to mention names, but a glance at the audience revealed what might be called the ‘usual suspects’ – women and men who have contributed much to music in general and the British repertoire in particular. I counted at least half-a-dozen authors, a number of instrumentalists and a fair few people from the British Music Society, the Elgar Society and other parts of the musical establishment. Naturally, many of these activities and interests overlap. What was equally gratifying were the people I spoke to who had ‘turned up’ simply because they liked Parry’s music. They had no particular agenda or axe to grind – they were just interested.

The day was well structured – a series of lectures and talks, interspersed with performances of chamber music, songs and piano pieces. There was a short break for lunch, a chance to buy CDs and musical scores and an opportunity to see some rare Parry memorabilia and manuscripts.

The event opened with an entertaining talk by Laura Ponsonby, the great-granddaughter of the composer. She discussed the family, Shulbrede and the composer’s legacy in a way that only a family member could. Perhaps some of her most memorable tales were about Parry’s motoring adventures? Continuity with the past was surely the fact that when Laura is in London she parks her car in the same garage as CHHP did all those years ago!

Hiroaki Takenouchi was the M.C. for the day. But more importantly he was the main pianist. His opening numbers were three of the fine Shulbrede Tunes. These were played in a revelatory way and seemed to surpass my previous hearings of these pieces. The final selection was Father Playmate: I have never noticed the almost Grainger-esque feel to much of this music.

The main lecture of the day was by Jeremy Dibble – the doyen of both Parry and Stanford (and John Stainer) scholarship. He is such a good communicator. He talked for over an hour without notes – yet never once did the lecture lose direction. He illustrated his exploration of Parry’s Style and Influence with numerous musical examples –which were always pertinent and allowed for deeper understanding of the music. It was mainly the choral works that he explored, including Blest Pair, Ode on the Nativity and Invocation to Music. It gave me and many others much food for thought. One of the lovely things about Dibble’s discourse is his obvious delight in the sheer beauty of the music: his facial expression reflects his thoughts as he listens to each piece.
I spoke to him later, and he suggested that his Parry desideratum for recording are L'Allegro ed il Penseroso and the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

After a brief corn-beef sandwich and chat with some of the group it was time for the afternoon concert. Two great works were given – the Fantasie Sonata for violin and piano and my all-time favourite Parry chamber work – the Piano Trio in E minor. They were both well performed and visibly impressed the audience.

The first lecture of the afternoon was by Dr. Horton on ‘Parry at the RCM’. It was a good discussion of the composer’s achievement in terms of administering the College. Perhaps it is important to realise that his social class would have precluded him from the job, but Horton explained how his personal qualities allowed Parry to make a great success of the appointment. The sometimes stormy relationship with Sir Charles Stanford was briefly considered.
The two pianists Kumi Matsuo and Kentaro Nagai then gave an inspiring performance of the fine Grosses Duo for Two Pianos. This is a work that surely demands recording. It owes much to the composer’s well-regarded studies of J.S. Bach, but is still a ‘modern’ work that exudes confidence and technical competence.

The great authority on British Song, Michael Pilkington introduced the audience to a number of Parry’s songs. Most were selected from the 12 books of English Lyrics. Some of these were performed by Emilie Alford, a fine mezzo-soprano and Anne Marshall an equally accomplished pianist. The others were heard from CD. Pilkington’s bottom line was that this is a fine collection of songs that deserves to be better known. Although a good collection of these Lyrics has been issued by Hyperion, sung by Stephen Varcoe, there is surely a requirement for a ‘complete’ cycle. Stephen Varcoe later performed ‘live’ seven songs ably accompanied by Joseph Middleton.

The final event of a long, but thoroughly enjoyable day was the Evening Concert. Two works were given here. Raphael Wallfisch and Hiroaki Takenouchi gave an excellent account of the Cello Sonata. It is almost impossible to believe that this work in not in the cello repertory. It is an interesting work that reveals the composer’s essential ‘Englishness’ for the first time. There is much beautiful music here – especially in the lyrical slow movement.
Lastly, Janet Hilton conducted an ensemble of nine woodwind and horn students in the Nonet for Wind in Bb major. This is not one of my personal favourites, but it is an impressive work. Anyone who has the temerity to suggest that Parry could not orchestrate needs to hear this piece.

But perhaps my abiding memory of the day was seeing Dr. Peter Horton, the Deputy Librarian, staggering into the Recital Hall carrying the bust of Hubert Parry. It was placed on a table facing the audience. I guess that he presided over the day’s activities and would have been proud, amused, informed and entertained, as were the audience, by the day’s proceedings.

John France June 2009 ©

Billy Mayerl: Sennen Cove & ‘Marigold’

Last year I did a little post about Billy Mayerl’s tone poem Sennen Cove. I noted there that piece was one of my desideratum. I did accept the limitations of the music and finshed by suggesting that:-
Sennen Cove is no Tintagel or La Mer. It is quite short at just over eight minutes. And it could be argued that the musical material is unbalanced and inconsistent. Mayerl perhaps tries to introduce too many images into his music. Yet as a work by someone who is a decided miniaturist it is certainly enjoyable and evocative of a day at the seaside long ago.
I was delighted to find the original Columbia recording of the Court Symphony Orchestra conducted by the composer has found its way onto You Tube . Now naturally this is taken from an old 78rpm disc and there lacks clarity and quality. But this is a small concession to make in order to hear this piece without buying the Dutton release that I referred to in my original post.
My thoughts about this work have not changed- save to wonder what mark Mayerl would have made on ‘classical music if he had not gone down the avenue of writing ‘novelty’ piano pieces. Who knows?
Another You Tube find is an old Pathé Newsreel feature of the Billy Mayerl playing the piano. It is really just a bit of fun, but offers a very rare opportunity of seeing this charismatic composer and pianist doing what he did best. The film shows the piano impersonating a barrel organ, a record player which quite naturally winds down and finally the sound of an out of tune boarding house piano. Lastly Mayerl plays a few bars from his signature tune – Marigold.
Billy Mayerl was born on 31 May 1902 and sadly died from a heart attack on 25th March 1959.

John Ireland: Orchestral Music played by the Halle

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of reviewing this great new recording of music by one of my favourite composers, John Ireland. It is a veritable feast of his orchestral works. In fact it makes an excellent introduction to his music. There are six works on this disc which represent different facets and interests of the composer's achievement.

I opened my review with a little anecdote:-

I was reading the sleeve-notes of this CD on a train from the North Country down to 'The Smoke'. A lady opposite was busy typing away on her laptop. However, I could see that something had caught her eye. I knew that it was not me, so it had to be the CD box! I showed it to her and asked if she knew the music of John Ireland. She shook her head and said, “Never heard of him, but I think the Hallé Orchestra are the best in the world”. Although the conversation ended as quickly as it started, it certainly gave me food for thought.

The advertising blurb on the CD cover quotes a reviewer in The Times. It states quite categorically, “I'd rather listen to the Hallé play English music than any other orchestra in the world.”

So, here are two resounding shouts for the great Manchester-based band. And if I am honest I would have to agree that this present performance of John Ireland's orchestral music is truly superb. This is a great CD that every Ireland enthusiast will insist on having.

All these recordings are essential and I would not be without them. I was introduced to Ireland's orchestral music through the Lyrita LPs so I naturally have a soft spot for them. However, John Wilson and the Hallé have excelled themselves and produced a landmark disc that presents this great music with enthusiasm, passion and understanding.

Please read the full review at MusicWeb International

Francis Chagrin: Overture from ‘Helter Skelter’

I remember a school-friend coming into the music department at my grammar school one morning and announcing that Francis Chagrin was dead. Now I must confess that I had not heard of the composer nor was I sure if ‘it’ was a male Francis or female Frances. However I was soon appraised that Chagrin’s great claim to fame was that he wrote the music to the Colditz Story. Later investigations have revealed that he composed three symphonies, a piano concerto and a great deal of other music. Unfortunately I have never heard the ‘symphonic’ works and I guess that few people have. It is difficult to deduce the value of a composer’s ‘serious’ music from the present overture. However, even the most cursory hearing of Helter Skelter reveals a composer who delighted in fine melodies, superb orchestration and interesting harmonies. This piece is quite definitely a crowd puller and I have often wondered why it does not feature in concert programmes as a ‘curtain raiser.’ It would surely be a great ‘Last Night’ favourite.

Helter Skelter was a comedy film produced in 1949. It starred David Tomlinson, Mervyn Johns and Carol Marsh. However there were cameo roles for a large number of actors including Dennis Price, Jon Pertwee, Esma Cannon, ‘Professor’ Jimmy Edwards, Terry Thomas and Richard Hearne. Hearne played a character called Professor Pastry- a persona he was to make famous on children’s TV in the nineteen-sixties. The film was directed by Ralph Thomas – who was later to make such films as Doctor in Clover, Carry On Cruising, and the cult film Percy.
The present film’s rather weak plot involves a police detective who becomes involved with a socialite and heiress. Furthermore this ‘femme fatale’ has an attack of the hiccups which is only cured after a romp at the BBC’s Broadcasting House in Langham Place. It does conveniently explain the overture’s subtitle of The Girl with the Hiccups.

Francis Chagrin (1905-72), whose real name was Alexander Paucke, was born in Romania. He studied music in his home country and in France. In 1936 he settled in London becoming by and large an ‘honorary’ British composer. Philip Scowcroft, in an article on the composer on MusicWeb International notes that during the Second World War Chagrin worked for the BBC's French service “which may account for the large number of settings of French traditional songs among his output”. Although Chagrin wrote ‘serious’ music, he made a major contribution to the film score genre; there are over two hundred in his catalogue.

Over the years, Chagrin adapted a number of film scores for the concert hall these included the Four Orchestral Episodes (from The Intruder) and the Yugoslav Sketches (from The Bridge). These are actually quite serious works and are in total contrast to Greyfriars Bobby with its Scottish flavour and the riotous Helter Skelter.

The overture from Helter Skelter opens with a short, dramatic four-bar phrase that quickly builds up to a crescendo. This is immediately followed by a ‘swaggering, energetic’ theme. This allegretto scherzando is a fine example of a well-orchestrated piece of ‘light music.’ It is well described as displaying a ‘hiccupping rhythm’ and a certain ‘slapstick quality.’ It is a fine musical description of a fairground. Soon the allegretto leads into a romantic mood: a theme worthy of Richard Strauss slowly emerges. Surely Chagrin must have had Der Rosenkavalier in his mind at this point. Yet even this music has a touch of humour provided by sardonic comments from the woodwind. The music becomes passionate before a brass fanfare leads into a modern sounding ‘allegro section’ that is rumbustious in character. A flute solo leads to an attempt at reprising the opening theme. However, the romantic Straussian tune twice manages to delay the proceedings. Eventually the ‘swaggering music finally re-establishes and leads the overture to a rousing coda – complete with ‘dance band style’ muted brass, wa-wa effects and trombone glissandi. Yet, in the final bars the music calms down and the coda is cheeky rather than decisive. The whole work gives the impression of a flamboyant, high-spirited romp tinged with an essential love interest.

The early reviews of the Overture were hardly encouraging. B. W. G. R., the critic in Music and Letters (Volume 32 No.4 October 1951), was certainly less than complimentary. He mused as to “whether ‘comedy overture’ is a suitable title for Francis Chagrin's composition,” and decided that it largely “depends upon one's interpretation of the word ‘comedy’”. He considered that the music was “banal both in its content and in its scoring (two-octave glissandos for horns, ‘wa-wa’ directions for trombones and so on)” He concluded by suggesting that “perhaps it is not intended for the concert platform”.

A few months later the Musical Times (Volume 93 March 1952) could report that: Helter- Skelter, a comedy overture by Francis Chagrin, opened the concert given by Sir Adrian Boult and the London Philharmonic Orchestra on 16 January, the programme continuing with Elgar's Falstaff and Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony”. But then he hits hard: “Mr. Chagrin has been salvaging his scrap: the basis of the overture is the music he wrote some years ago for the hardly successful British film, Helter-Skelter. After a sombre beginning, the overture settles down into routine jollification (an odd bang here, and odd ' wrong' note there) with sentimental interludes; the music never becomes memorable”.

Yet some fifty-four years later critics are more understanding and more generous in their estimation of this work. Hubert Culot, writing a review of the Chandos disc of Chagrin’s music for MusicWeb International, stated that “this light-hearted overture opens the present generous survey in high spirits. The music really lives up to its title, its highly contrasted tunes ‘colliding’ with each other in a most joyful and refreshing way.” Interestingly, Culot wonders if he is “...alone in hearing echoes of Enescu’s Rumanian Rhapsodies in this piece?” Whatever the case, he concludes by suggesting that this Overture is really a “fine concert opener that should have become popular”. (August 2005)

The score of the Overture from Helter Skelter was first published in 1951 by Augener. A miniature score is also available. The recording history is difficult to pin down. There is a reference to an early ‘record’ of the ‘Spring Song’ and the ‘End titles’ played by the London Symphony Orchestra and conducted by Muir Mathieson. This was issued on a 78 r.p.m. disc, serial number FM74 although it may refer to the studio’s own recording as opposed to something of public release. Lyrita issued a performance by the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Nicholas Braithwaite in 1976. It was re-released on CD in 2007. In 2005 Chandos released a fine conspectus of Francis Chagrin’s music, which includes Helter Skelter.

I note that there although there are currently two versions of the Helter Skelter Overture currently available in the CD catalogues, there is not currently a DVD of the film itself. It is perhaps fair to suggest that this is a case of the music long outliving the film.

Helter Skelter is presently available on two CDs:- CHANDOS CHAN 10323 and LYRITA SRCD.318

Britten: Folk Song Arrangements sung by Steve Davislim

I recently had the pleasure of reviewing this fine CD from Melba Recordings in Australia. I began my review with a little reminsicience...

“I first heard The Salley Gardens some 37 years ago. It was in the music department of my old school, Coatbridge High. One of the sixth-formers was preparing for a recital, and Britten's arrangement was part of this. At that time, I was 'into' Richard Strauss's Four Last Songs and Wagner's Wesendonck Lieder, so Britten's arrangement came as a surprise. It was simple, straight-to-the-point and quite simply beautiful. Even at sixteen years old I thought it was one of the loveliest things I had ever heard”.

After a brief resume of the various recordings of this fine music, and noting that “the fundamental recording is by the composer and Peter Pears on Decca London. Love him or loathe him, Pears is the touchstone for all subsequent recordings...”

I felt that “the present CD...is superb. It is does not supersede any past recordings, but it is well and truly in the trajectory of Pears, Ferrier, Langridge, Thomas Allen et al. Steve Davislim, a fine Australian tenor, is able to generate a wide variety of moods as he tackles each of these songs. His vocalism is perfectly capable of showing joy, sadness, happiness, fear, tragedy and wit as he progresses from song to song and verse to verse. There are many surprises, delight and felicities in these pages.

This is a great CD. I am only sorry that it comprises only extracts from the 'collected' works, and is not a complete edition. Yet I guess that is largely impossible for a single soloist. Positively, this is a fine introduction to some of the loveliest and most attractive songs in the vocal repertoire. They are, by and large, beautifully performed by both the singer and the accompanist. And most importantly of all I feel that Steve Davislim thoroughly enjoys singing these songs.

Please read the full review at MusicWeb International

Frank Bridge: Three Idylls for String Quartet

The strange thing about the Three Idylls is that they are best known through the lens of Benjamin Britten. The second was used to provide the theme for Britten’s well known Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge. This was the pupil’s ‘affectionate’ tribute to his master.
Perhaps the term ‘Idyll’ is a little misleading for this work; it is not a particularly ‘idyllic’ piece of music in the accepted sense of the word. When I first heard these pieces I expected something loosely pastoral in sound and was perhaps a little disappointed to discover that they are anything other than the proverbial ‘cow and gate’. However, these pieces have a happy genesis: they were written for, and dedicated to, a certain violinist called Ethel Elmore Sinclair. This Australian lady shared a desk with Bridge in the Royal College of Music Symphony Orchestra. The piece was composed in 1906 and was performed the following year. After a trip to Australia, Ethel returned to England and became Bridge’s wife.
The general mood of this music is one of melancholy: Bridge makes considerable use of the darker string tones. The first Idyll opens with a lugubrious melody for solo viola, which was the composer’s favourite instrument. It leads into a reflective and moving adagio. There is a slight brightening of atmosphere with music that has been described as having a ‘Latin beat’ before the original material returns.
The second is the shortest of the three pieces and once again is somewhat dark in humour. However the middle section is a little more animated and raises the spirits. There are hints of the ‘blues’ here created by some interesting syncopation.
The last Idyll is animated and lifts the entire work out of its moody introspection. This is the nearest that this music comes to a summer’s day as opposed to the frost-bound landscape of the previous two Idylls.
The entire work is a small masterpiece. Everything about this piece reveals a composer who is totally at home with his media, who is able to create wide ranging music with a variety of tonal explorations and instrumental effects. It was a worthy gift to his wife-to-be.

Listen to these Three Idylls on Naxos, Hyperion or Helios

Frank Bridge: Rhapsody for Two Violins and Viola

I recently had the pleasure of reviewing the new SOMM release of Frank Bridge’s chamber works. The Rhapsody Trio for two violins and viola is the only piece on this CD that I had not heard before. And my initial reaction is that it has suddenly become one of my favourite pieces of chamber music in general and Bridge in particular.

It was composed in 1928 and is largely written in Bridge’s later style. The sleeve notes describe the work as surreal, and Benjamin Britten is quoted as having written, “I can well remember discussions about this work, when as a boy I was working with Bridge, and heard a try-through if it...in my opinion the work is decidedly worth reviving...it has a strong fantastic character, very personal them sans wonderfully resourceful writing for the instruments.”

John Warrack writing in the Daily Telegraph (June 1965) notes the “brilliant and hitherto forgotten... trio of 1928, which shows in its immaculate craftsmanship and its weird, very non-English chromatic language...” Hindmarsh notes its fantastic and elusive character.”
The adjectives ‘surreal’, ‘fantastic’, ‘elusive’ and ‘weird’ suggest that somehow this composition is an aberration or even a freak, but I am not convinced that this work is not grounded in the British chamber music tradition and forms an integral part of Bridge’s development. My first reaction is that it appears to me to be one of the composer’s masterpieces.
Stylistically, there is no way that this work could be defined as being ‘pastoral’ in any accepted sense of the word: this is not the kind of ‘rhapsody’ that rhapsodizes on the Fens or on Bredon Hill. However, here is a strong sense of landscape in this piece and it is an English landscape on not an Austrian one. Berg may influence the process, but not the mood. It is perhaps a generalised landscape that is at one and the same time vernal and blasted. The artistic equivalent would perhaps be Paul Nash. Musically it strikes the same temper as There is a Willow grows aslant a Brook. At times, I was reminded of Peter Warlock’s masterpiece –The Curlew.
I need to spend much more time on this piece. I need to read up on its history, its reception and its construction.

This work can be heard on SOMM CD087

Ivor Gurney: A Tribute by Sir J.C. Squire

Squire wrote:-

"In a book I recently wrote, there occurred these words in relation to Sir Charles Stanford: -
Stanford knew that there were greater musicians about than himself, and was handsome to and about his abler pupils. He told me that one of them, whom I knew, was perhaps the most promising composer alive. I thought to myself that there was something both of Beethoven and of Mozart about him. That referred to Ivor Gurney: I didn't mention his name because I was not by way of mentioning my friends without their permission. But it shall be mentioned now.

I have known composers with a fine literary sense and poets who loved music but could neither compose nor play. I have known no man save Gurney who had the double creative gift that Rossetti had in his two arts. His poems are few, young and troubled by war; but they are full of the promise of maturity. The practice of the art has made him all the more sensitive to the quality of the lyrics which he set as songs. He has never set bad words; he found good and suitable words amongst the living (for he had the desire to collaborate with the living poets as did the Elizabethans and Lawes and his successors) all too few; to-day he might find them still fewer.

What he might have done in the symphonic way, had he chosen that, I do not know; he has passion, power, architecture and a mastery of composition. I do know, however, having heard so many of them (and most of them, I think, remain unpublished),[1] that his songs are masterly and should be familiar everywhere - from the simple lilting melody he made to Bridges's 'Since thou, O fondest and truest' [2] to the august, forest-haunted, vagrantly modern setting of Edward Thomas's 'Lights Out',[3] which I think one of the finest songs ever written.
I suppose it will all come to light some day. But the best in the arts still have the old struggle.
J. C. Squire Music & Letters Volume 19 No. 1 January1938 pp. 7-12

Sir John Squire (John Collings Squire) (April 2, 1884 – December 20, 1958) was a British poet, writer, historian, and literary editor of the post-World War I period. He moved in society circles and was loosely associated with the British Union of Fascists by way of the January Club. He later eschewed some of the views espoused by these organisaitons.

Notes:
[1] This is still the case: although a fair number have been published, the vast majority still remain in manuscript. Many are unworthy of the composer at his best.
[2]As far as my records tell, the Bridges’s song has yet to be recorded.
[3] Lights Out is currently available on Severn & Somme – Songs by Gurney, Howells, Sanders Venables and Wilson. Somm 57

Paul Spicer: Stars, I have seen them fall

I recently had the pleasure of reviewing a CD of Paul Spicer’s choral works. My review will appear, hopefully, in a future edition of the Finzi Society Journal. However I was struck by his setting of A.E. Housman’s beautiful miniature poem “Stars, I have seen them fall...” and I felt that I needed to say a few more words about this lovely setting than is in my review.

Stars, I have seen them fall,

But when they drop and die

No star is lost at all

From all the star-sown sky.

The toil of all that be

Helps not the primal fault;

It rains into the sea,

And still the sea is salt.

A.E Housman No. 7 More Poems published 1936

Richard Perceval Graves notes that the poet believed that “the Universe is fatally flawed (original sin) and is linked with the idea of a fatal destiny...” [p216] Yet somehow I feel that the poem is actually more positive that the commentators would allow. Whereas they would probably emphasise the lines “The toil of all that be/Helps not the primal fault” I would draw the readers attention to the simple words- “No star is lost at all”.

Like much of Spicer’s music, this setting came into being through people. In fact it has a sad genesis. Robert Gower, the organist and academic, had accepted a post at the Glenalmond College. Both Gower and his wife Pauline were friends of Spicer’s. Tragically, one of their children, Phillipa died of cancer on 30th September 2002. The sleeve notes tell how “she was about to go up to Oriel College, Oxford as Organ Scholar to read Philosophy and Theology”. At that time she had been acting organist at Perth Cathedral – which was convenient to her father’s college. Spicer relates that she was a “very talented artist and a very considerable individual.” A few months after Phillipa’s death a concert was given at Radley by her friends: this was a celebration of her life and achievements. The present part-song was composed by Paul Spicer for that occasion. He wrote that the poem “seemed to encapsulate so much of what needed to be said with admirable brevity...”

The part-song opens in a somewhat ambiguous style – with shifting harmonies and counterpoint. Although the composer uses quite a number of soft dissonances, there are quite a few places in the apiece that use consonant chords. Interestingly the composer chooses to repeat the last two a number of times – the final statement being introduced by a little rising unison phrase. Although the work ends with a positive affirmation, it is perhaps not the emphasis I would have chosen:-“No star is lost at all.”

This motet, along with a fine selection of Paul Spicer's other choral music appears on Regent Records REGCD280

George Butterworth: an early review of his songs.

I found this early review of George Butterworth’s Songs in the Musical Times whilst browsing in the Royal college of music Library. It is worth reproducing for its generally positive approach to these fine songs.
Six songs from A Shropshire Lad, Bredon Hill and other songs. Eleven Folk-songs from Sussex. By George Butterworth. [Published by Augener, Ltd.]

A. E. Housman's A Shropshire Lad poems appear to possess as irresistible an attraction for English composers as do those of Heine for German musicians. Mr. Butterworth's settings are especially worthy of careful study if only for their striking individuality, and for the admirable use made of folk-song idiom.

In a brief review it is impossible to indicate the many beauties of these songs, but taking them as a whole, the chief impression left upon the mind is one of classic grace and purity of form and outline rather than of warmth of colour and rich embroidery. In many of the songs the accompaniment consists of only an occasional simple chord or arpeggio, and yet there is no sense of loss.

We cite Loveliest of trees as an instance of the remarkable effect produced by this economy of material. The most ambitious setting is that of Bredon Hill. The composer reflects the varying moods of the poem in a series of entirely satisfying modulations, the reiterated melody for the voice gradually rising in register to the climax of the last verse. But it is a difficult song to sing, and the voice-part, especially at this climax, is singularly ungrateful. An abrupt change from the chord of F minor to the dominant of E: major, with a descent for the voice of a 9th, from the G in alt, is apt to be very disconcerting.

The arrangements of the Sussex folk-songs are models of what such arrangements should be. The version of Tarry Trowsers should become widely popular.

The Musical Times June 1st 1914 p388

Strangely the Folk Songs from Sussex are not currently availbale on CD, although Graham Trew and Rogern Vignoes recorded three of the set on an LP (Hyperion A66037)

A fine version of The Shropshire Lad and of Bredon Hill and othere songs is available on Chandos. It is performed by Benjamin Luxon & David Willison

David Lyon: Country Lane -an impression for orchestra

David Lyon (b.1938), the Walsall born composer, would probably not want to be judged simply on this rather attractive orchestral miniature. Yet after listening to the Marco Polo retrospective of his music, it was the one piece that caught my eye – so to speak. Of course the most important work on this CD is probably the fine Concerto for Horn and Strings or maybe even the enchanting Fairytale Suite. Lyon’s catalogue includes an impressive array of major works – including a Piano Concerto in One Movement, an orchestral Burlesque, a String Quartet and a Suite for Percussion –all works surely worthy of attention. But as my train sped through the Surrey hills the other day it was Country Lanes that fitted the bill. 
The programme notes are quite specific in declaring that this piece is “intended to conjure up the image of a pony and cart wandering through the countryside.” When I contacted the composer, I told him that it sat well with Peter Hope’s Ring of Kerry and Benjamin Frankel’s Carriage & Pair. So perhaps the musical imagery is explicit. Lyon told me that if there was any direct 'inspiration' for the piece, it could have been that at the time of writing, he was living in a "pretty idyllic cottage near Bath, having recently moved from London". He felt that he had "visualised something like a pony and trap meandering gently through the countryside".

The composer told me that the work dates from 1971, at a time when he was writing a lot of so-called 'light music' with the aim of getting it broadcast by one of the BBC house orchestras. He further recalled that at that time “the BBC Light Music Dept ran a 'repertoire rehearsal' scheme, in which one could submit a piece for a 'run-through'; if it met with approval, it would then be included in the BBC repertoire, thus guaranteeing at least one broadcast.” Apparently it was also more-or-less guaranteed publication, so it was a bit of a blow when the BBC eventually abandoned the scheme -together with a number of its orchestras.

Country Lanes is really quite a short piece – in fact it would have fitted nicely onto one side of an old 45 r.p.m. disc. The piece is defined by a relatively straightforward tune that has just a touch of syncopation and an easy going harmonic support. Perhaps the charm of the work is best seen in the neat orchestration: the tune is passed back and forth between strings and a variety of woodwind. The accompaniment is always restrained. There are certain little touches that bring this piece to life. For example, there is a hint of a modal cadence here and there and the harmonic interest is maintained by a series of key changes. Another fingerprint of the composer is the considerable use of counterpoint. The result is a tightly controlled, but inherently simple piece of character music. The title is certainly reflected in the finished product.
Stylistically David Lyon’s music nods to the lighter moods of William Walton and perhaps even Malcolm Arnold.

David Lyon told me that “Country Lanes wasn't as lucky as some of my other pieces regarding the number of eventual broadcasts - though, ironically, it is one of very few pieces that I have written in a deliberately straight-forward 'light music' format, whereas most of my music tries (with varying success) to appeal to two audiences: those who just enjoy a good tune, presented in a readily-accessible idiom, and those who require a little more meat, with thematic development, fancy counterpoint, more adventurous harmonies and structure etc."
The composer believes that Country Lanes is perhaps the most successful 'miniature' that he has written.
Finally, there is an interesting little coincidence about this piece: my email to the composer arrived as he was just about to start to prepare a new, computerised score for the publisher. So perhaps this charming work that originally saw the light of day some 38 years ago, is about to have a new lease of life in an era when ‘light’ music is no longer seen as being passé.
Country Lanes is recorded on Marco Polo 225039

Adam Pounds: The Martyrdom of Latimer

Adam Pounds, the Cambridge composer has informed me that he has "just completed the score to ‘The Martyrdom of Latimer’ for orchestra. It was been commissioned by the Ely Sinfonia and will be performed in Ely Cathedral on Saturday October 3rd together with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and Mozart’s Requiem. The orchestra will be conducted by Steve Bingham.

I am looking forward to writing more about this work, and hope that is will be subsequently recorded. In the meantime the composer ahs given me this short precis of the piece.

"‘The Martyrdom of Latimer’ explores the final days of Latimer’s life and his death at the stake. I have employed modal themes and liturgical ideas combined with strong rhythmic statements. The orchestra, which is fairly large, also employs four trumpet parts. Two of the players are to be sited in the gallery. The piece was started on March 23rd and took shape very quickly, being completed on the 15th May. I was asked to explore the concept of resurrection in the piece. To this end, I have designed a coda which employs material earlier in the work that embodies Latimer’s character – some of it is based on the music of the Tudor composer Robert White. When this music returns it is extended and uses strong ‘open’ intervals. This is intended to reinforce the concept that in death, Latimer became more powerful and therefore ‘alive’."

It sounds an exiting project!

Frank Bridge: Fourth String Quartet and other Chamber Music on Hyperion

I recently reviewed this excellent CD from Hyperion. Three major works from the pen of Frank Bridge is always an appealing prospect and this disc certainly fulfils its promise.

Perhaps the most important work on this CD is the Fourth Quartet. This is a major masterpiece. I admit that it has never been my favourite work – I prefer the composer’s more romantic offerings of the pre-Great War era - but I am slowly coming round to enjoying - if that is the correct word to use - it and perhaps even beginning to understand it. I certainly find that it moves me. I have written elsewhere that the Fourth String Quartet is a bit like Janus – it faces in two directions. It is easy to be overwhelmed by the harmonic language, which is often extremely dissonant. Much of the effect seems to derive from a counterpoint that clashes rather than agrees or resolves. The first impression is of a work that owes more to the Second Viennese School than to ‘Parry ’n’ Stanford’. However, according to the musicologists, the Quartet is not actually atonal: it is rooted in a very free form of tonality, which may be more obvious under scholarly analysis than to the ear.

Yet, the more I hear of this work, the more I come to realise that there is a passionate side to this Quartet. But perhaps this is hardly surprising. The influence of Schoenberg and his ‘school’ was not always anti-romantic. Just think of the Violin Concerto by Alban Berg, for example. The end product is a fine addition to the string quartet repertoire. The ‘note’ of Englishness has never quite left the imagination of this great composer.
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I concluded my review by insisting that “this is a well balanced CD, with two relatively early works contrasted with his last major piece of chamber music. In fact, it was his last great work - with the exception of Rebus and the promise of the unfinished Symphony for Strings. In many ways this disc would be a good introduction to the sheer breadth of Frank Bridge’s chamber works, providing that the listener is not afraid of engaging with music that leans towards German expressionism. The opening Piano Quintet is as good as early Bridge gets. I note that the Three Idylls are somewhat melancholic, but this ‘mood’ issue apart; they are one of the composer’s masterpieces.
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Fortunately there are a fair few versions of the Fourth Quartet available at the moment (Lyrita, Meridian, Naxos and Redcliffe). All these versions are worthy and each one has its supporters. However, for music as important as this (4th Quartet) there can never be too many recordings! All enthusiasts of Frank Bridge and of English chamber music will want to have this recording along with all the rest!
Please read the full review at MusicWeb International

Gustav Holst: A Memory of Hubert Parry as a Lecturer.

I recently discovered this short tribute to Charles Hubert Hasting Parry. It was written by Gustav Holst –who at the time of writing was forty-four years old. He was then teaching at both Morley College and St Paul’s Girls School in Hammersmith. Furthermore, 1918 was the year when the Planets was given its first full public performance on 10th October 1918.
Interestingly, Groves suggests that the nineteen year old Holst began his education at the Royal College of Music in 1893 and not in 1892 as he himself suggests. His daughter, Imogen, in her biography of her father confirms him arriving at the RCM in May 1893, and shortly after meeting Charles Villiers Stanford. His friend at the College at this time was Fritz Hart, a largely forgotten song composer.
Parry himself would have been a mere 45 year old at that time: he would have looked nothing like the ‘avuncular’ photographs that are usually used to portray the composer. At time Parry was Professor of Musical History at the Royal College. Three years later he acceded to the post of director.

MY impression of Sir Hubert Parry on meeting him in 1892, was that at last I had met a great man who did not terrify me. It was my first term at the Royal College of Music, and I think all raw students, like myself, must have felt for his unfailing geniality and sympathy. Unfortunately, some had not the opportunity of realising what lay beneath. An insight into this was accorded me at the first of his lectures on musical history.
He began it in quite an ordinary way. He gave names and dates and events, and I settled down to listen to the sort of lecture I had heard before, only this time far better done.
Then he looked up form his notes, and said: “I suppose you all know what was going on in Europe at that time?” He then stood up and while walking about, he gave us, so it seemed to me, a Vision rather than a lecture – a Vision of people struggling to express themselves in war, in commerce, in art, in life: a Vision of the unity that lay under these various forms of human effort.: a Vision of the unity of a certain century with those that preceded and followed it: a Vision that I learnt from that moment to call History.
Gustav T. Holst The Music Student Volume XI No.3 November 1918 p86

Ivor Gurney: ‘The Songs I Had’

I was privileged to hear Pamela Blevins present a fine illustrated lecture on Ivor Gurney. This explored the composer/poet’s life “against a background of his times, journeying with him as he moved through the worlds of war, poetry and music, enjoyed romance and tasted success.” But perhaps the most interesting, if depressing part of this talk was concerned with “providing insights into the nature of his [Gurney’s] illness and its effect on his music.

For me, three critical points emerged from this lecture. All of them I have been aware of but believe that listeners to Gurney’’ music need to be reminded of from time to time.

1. Gurney did not suffer from shell shock. This notion was first formall promulgated by his friend Marion Scott in the 1954 edition of Groves Dictionary. It has remained in the popular psyche ever since, in spite of many efforts to present the facts. The truth was that Gurney was “locked in a losing battle with the worsening symptoms of the bipolar illness that struck him as a teenager and would eventually derail his genius".
2. Gurney did not spend the final fifteen years of his life in an asylum reliving the horrors of the Great War. Blevins made abundantly clear that his time in the army was in fact productive both musically and poetically. He made a great soldier and the discipline of army life led to an improvement in his mental health rather than a deterioration. It was not until after the war that he began to struggle again with his manic depression.
3. There is nothing positive to be gained by publishing every scrap of Gurney’s music, poetry and correspondence. There is a danger that scholars and musicians try to revive various works that are not worthy to the composer’s reputation. Naturally there will be a few gems amongst the unpublished scores, but much of the ‘asylum years’ music is unfocused and suffers from ‘grass-hoppering.’

The lecture was well illustrated with music – vocal, piano and even orchestral. Perhaps the piece that most impressed me is the recently discovered song Western Sailors. However, in spite of the fact that this is supposedly a late work, Pamela Blevins feels it could belong to an earlier period. Certainly it is a great song that displays none of the faults that are often apparent in his later scores.

Pamela Blevins is to be congratulated on both her lecture and the considerable work that she does for British Music. Her recent study of “Ivor Gurney and Marion Scott” from Boydell Press is essential reading for all enthusiasts of Gurney and English song. Her work for the Maud Powell and the Gerald Finzi Society in the United States is equally impressive. She is co-founder and editor of The Maud Powell Signature on-line journal which majors on Women in music – as composers, performers and educators.

Sir Arnold Bax: Symphonic Variations on Naxos

Many years ago I bought an old Revolution LP of the Bax Symphonic Variations, played by Joyce Hatto with the Guilford Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Vernon Handley. I must confess that I was never particularly happy with this disc- there seemed to be something wrong with the sound quality – so I never really got to know this work until the Margaret Fingerhut recording made in 1999 on the Chandos label. I was seriously impressed with this work and felt that it was one of the high-points of British neo-romantic music. So I was delighted to find that Naxos have recently released a new recording of this work with Ashley Wass and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra conducted by James Judd. It is an excellent performance and to my mind makes an interesting stablemate to the Chandos version.

Ian Lace has provided a fine review of this work on MusicWeb International –and I agree with most of what he says. However, I am not convinced that Wass/Judd actually supersedes the Fingerhut/Thomson disc...
Lace begins his interview by insisting that “Bax’s epic Symphonic Variations for piano and orchestra equals the Brahms piano concertos in length" And further states that “his powerful and poetic reading by Wass and Judd reveals more [nuances?] and assists in a deeper appreciation of this undervalued romantic work"
He proceeds to give a fine account of the work's history, including a discussion of the key players in its genesis. Interestingly he reminds the listener that Harriet Cohen, the works dedicatee, had a possessive attitude towards the piece. He believes that this factor contributed to its long and unjustified neglect.

Ian Lace then gives a detailed and useful analysis of the piece which is certainly most helpful to the interested listener. The distilation of this commentary is that the Symphonic Variations is one long love poem.
After a brief notice of the other work on the CD – the Concertante for Piano (Left Hand) and Orchestra, Lace concludes his review by declaring that “this CD is certain to figure amongst my choice of recordings for 2009”.

Please read Ian Lace’s superb review on MusicWeb International

John Ireland: Review of the New Piano Sonata by Marion M. Scott

I recently read this review of John Ireland’s Piano Sonata, by the critic and composer Marion M. Scott. It orignally appeared in the Chrisitan Science Monitor Saturday July 24 1920.

LONDON, England - The production of a large new work by John Ireland could not fail to arouse attention, since he is now regarded as one of the most individual and progressive members of the young British school. The actual event, so far as London was concerned, took place on June 12, Lamond producing Ireland's Sonata for piano at his recital at Wigmore Hall, though it is understood that he had played it in Bournemouth a week earlier.
It was placed centrally in Lamond's program, preceded by Beethoven's Thirty-two Variations in C minor, and followed by a long group of miscellaneous solos. There is no need to dwell specifically upon these. Lamond's Beethoven playing was as powerful and intellectual as usual; his Chopin over-robust and devoid of idealism; his Liszt of an amazing virtuosity.
This new Sonata is undoubtedly a big work, and like most of Ireland's things, has evidently been written with deliberation and fixity of purpose, companioning his thoughts for many months, since the score bears the date "Chelsea: October 1918 to January 1920."

The sonata is cast in three movements: (a) allegro moderato, (2) non troppo-lento, (3) con moto moderato, and is described as being in E minor. Analysts, however, who may wish to trace the old, obvious key enters and relationships in this work, will find they have a difficult task. Not that the sonata is devoid of key; far from it. Ireland has his centers of harmonic interest, he balances his progressions with as complete a personal awareness of his intentions as an architect brings to a building, and his work is never loose-flung nor carelessly finished. But the sonata is difficult to follow in virtue of the extremely close chain of reasoning which governs its structure, and the marked individualism of its style.
The first movement of the sonata contains much that is striking, and the form (a refinement upon the classical sonata form) is as interesting to a composer as the brilliant passages are effective for a pianist; yet in some ways it is the least satisfactory movement of the three, for in it Ireland is closest to what he has done before and there are moments which recall his "Ragamuffin" or the violin sonata in A minor. But in the second and third movements he seems to have got clear of his earlier works and to be speaking directly from his present experience, revealing John Ireland as a man who has progressed.
The second movement is in B flat major, this unexpected juxtaposition of keys having been already foreshadowed by the first movement. Melodic beauty, harmonic color, breadth of design, together with much introspection, are the characteristics which appear upon a first hearing. Probably the movement does not give up all its secrets at once.
The finale (E major) begins with spacious dignity, and, gradually gathering momentum as it proceeds, seems impelled by some terrific energy to a tremendous end. It forms a fine close to a powerful work.
Lamond played it with immense conviction, a strong man interpreting the work of a strong man, his flowing tone, great striding passages and thunderous chords suiting the titanic mood of much of the music. But there were also delicate half-shades and fantasies which he missed, and therefore the performance did not stand as perfectly balanced.
The Sonata, however, made an instant impression, and both Lamond and Ireland were called to the platform at the close to bow their acknowledgments.
Marion M. Scott (MMS) Christian Science Monitor Saturday July 24 1920 (with a few minor edits) [With thanks to Pamela Blevins]

John Kitchen plays the organ of the Usher Hall, Edinburgh

I recently had the pleasure of reviewing this great organ recital by John Kitchen at the organ of the Usher Hall in Edinburgh. I have known John Kitchen since my school days. He was three years or so above me, and I first remember seeing him playing for a Christmas Carol concert. I was singing in the Senior Ensemble at that time. He was a regular star-appearance at various school concerts and performances of the annual Gilbert and Sullivan operas.

I felt that this is an exceptionally well-balanced programme that truly reflects the nature of a City Hall organist and instrument. I do understand that there is always a danger of organ enthusiasts railing against a ‘popular’ programme. Certainly, I myself have always confessed to being a bit of a musical snob when it comes to transcriptions and arrangements. Yet I can overlook any personal snobbery and enjoy this recital.

As an example of the programme I felt that “the Bach is brilliant. I do not care if there are some seventy other competing versions of this work played on anything from a barrel-organ through to a genuine ‘baroque’ instrument that JSB probably knew himself. I read with interest John Kitchen’s notes about whether it is appropriate to play the St. Anne Prelude and Fugue (or any other piece of Bach) on the Edwardian, Norman & Baird organ in the Usher Hall. There is a view that “one should simply not play it at all on an instrument so far removed in style from those known to Bach...” I agree with Kitchen’s conclusion that the music always “emerges triumphant, however one serves it up.” Interestingly, the so-called St Ann’s Prelude and Fugue are actually the first and last movements of the Clavierübung Part III. There is a school of thought that suggests they should never be played as a pair: nevertheless we are assured that Mendelssohn himself played them as such – and who would argue with him – especially when one considers what he achieved for the reappraisal of Bach’s music in the nineteenth century.

One of the most interesting pieces on this CD is the Little Liturgical Suite by the Aberdeen-based composer Geoffrey Atkinson. This makes use of Scottish folk-melodies. Atkinson has created a useful suite that can be used in church as a part of the ‘Mass’ or can be played at a recital. He uses three lovely tunes that are derived from the lesser-known Scottish airs – Bonnie Lass amongst the Heather, I’ll bid my heart be still and The Trumpeter of Fyvie. They were written for a competition organised by the Dr. William Baird Ross Trust and were composed in 1999. The work shows off a number of attractive soft stops on the Usher Hall organ. It is quite beautiful.

I would never have imagined back in 1972, when I was sitting somewhere in the second tenors in my school uniform and listening to John playing, that I would one day write a review of a recording of one of his fine recitals …

Please read the full review at MusicWeb International

Parry's Creative Process: by Michael Allis

Recently Ashgate sent me this excellent book to review. I noted that “since the composer’s death relatively few books or monographs have appeared that explore both the man and his music. Perhaps the most important recent volume is the fine biography by Jeremy Dibble – C. Hubert H. Parry- His Life and Music (1992). This is the main reference point for anyone wishing to explore his achievement. More than ten years ago, Ashgate published Bernard Benoliel’s study Parry before Jerusalem (1997). This is part monograph and part a collection of writings by the composer. There is an interesting study of the Parry family in Anthony Boden’s The Parry’s of Golden Vale: Background to Genius (1998)

A previous generation produced two important texts- J Fuller Maitland’s short The Music of Parry and Stanford: An Essay in Comparative Criticism (1934) and finally Charles L. Graves’ somewhat hagiographical Hubert Parry (1926) in two volumes. Apart from a number of articles in the musical press, a large collection of reviews and the odd hard to obtain thesis or dissertation that is about it.

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This present book fills an important gap in the biographical and musicological study of the composer. The basic premise of this scholarly, but readable, book is that Charles Hubert Hastings Parry has been done a major disservice by popular received opinion, or technically speaking, his reception history.
There are four basic ‘myths about Parry, which Allis makes it his task to ‘debunk’:-
1. George Bernard Shaw’s contention that Parry was basically a ‘conservative, out-of-touch, pedant.’
2. The predominant view in many people’s minds that Parry was simply a choral music hack
3. The suggestion that the composer was an upper class amateur who was far keener on huntin’ shootin’ and fishin’
4. The idea that Parry had a great facility in banging out musical compositions at a terrific rate, and in this profusion was largely uncritical of what he wrote.
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Two key parts of this book are checklist of the composer’s sketchbooks and a reference guide to his manuscripts and diaries.

The second extremely useful chapter in this book is the 'case study' on the relatively unknown song A Birthday. The author presents the published song and then proceeds to investigate the manuscript sources for the piece. This includes some thirteen sketches and four drafts before the final result is achieved.
If anything in this book proves that Parry was not facile or cavalier as a composer, and that he subjected many of his works to a constant process of change and review, it is this chapter. It demonstrates that his ‘meticulous attention to detail and careful consideration of his text’ produced some fine settings of songs and choral music.

I concluded by suggesting that “the importance and the utility of this present book is to writers of programme notes, reviews, articles and books who will subsequently approach his life and works. It is essential reading for them. Michael Allis’s book will give these individuals two things. Firstly, a useful appraisal of the composer's working methods, so that any discussion of his music will be more informed from a technical and chronological point of view. Secondly, that a number of the myths surrounding him are finally debunked - once and for all”.

Finally, I believe that this book will serve as a useful reference tool for all musicologists, writers and enthusiasts who approach the music of Charles Hubert Hastings Parry for many years to come.

Parry’s Creative Process

by Michael Allis

Music in 19th-Century Britain Series

ASHGATE

ISBN 978-1-84014-681-3 - £54:00

Please read the full review at MusicWeb International

Sir Hubert Parry: An appreciation by Ralph Vaughan Williams

I was looking through some old copies of The Music Student in the library the other day, and came across this charming appreciation of Sir Charles Hubert Hasting Parry by his erstwhile pupil Ralph Vaughan Williams. The piece needs no commentary.
I have made a few slight edits to typography etc. 

It is a great privilege to have the opportunity of paying my tribute in these pages to the memory of Sir Hubert Parry.
It was because he was a great man that Parry was a great teacher and a great composer. Many years ago it was my good fortune to be for a short time his pupil. I still often go out of my way to pass his house in Kensington Square in order to experience again the thrill with which I used to approach his door on my lesson day.

Walt Whitman says : "Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me sun­light expands my blood." Parry was one of these. You could not hear the sound of his voice or feel the touch of his hand without knowing that "virtue had gone out of him." It would not have mattered what we went to learn from him-it might have been mathe­matics or chemistry-his magic touch would have made it glow with life. Half-a-dozen of his enthusiastic, eloquent words were worth a hundred learned expositions.

Parry taught music as a part of life. Was it necessary for life that every part should form an organic whole? So it must be in music: there must be no mere filling up, every part must have its relation to the whole, so that the whole may live. Can we trace in life a process of evolution from the germ to the com­plete organism? So must we read the story of music. Is a nation given over to frivolity and insincere vulgarity? We shall surely see it
reflected in the music of that nation. There was no distinction for him between a moral and an artistic problem. To him it was morally wrong to use musical colour for its own sake, or to cover up weak material with harmonic device. This is what Parry taught, and this is what he practised; later composers have followed after strange gods: they have gathered new sounds from Germany, bizarre rhythms from Russia, and subtle harmonies from France. Into these paths Parry has not followed, not because he could not, but because he would not; he remained staunchly himself, and amidst all the outpouring of modern English music the work of Parry remains supreme.
The secret of Parry's greatness as a teacher was his broad-minded sympathy; his was not that so called broadmindedness which comes of want of conviction; his musical antipathies were very strong, and sometimes, in the opinion of those who disagreed with them, unreason­able; but in appraising a composer's work he was able to set these on one side and see beyond them. And it was in this spirit that he exam­ined the work of his pupils. A student's com­positions are seldom of any intrinsic merit, and a teacher is apt to judge them on their face-value. But Parry looked further than this; he saw what lay behind the faulty utter­ance and made it his object to clear the obstacles that prevented fullness of musical speech. His watchword was "characteristic" -that was the thing which mattered.
When other duties forced Parry to give up his pupils, the younger generations of English musicians suffered an irreparable loss. True, his influence is more widely felt now than it was then; hundreds of students have passed through the College of Music, hundreds have read his books, have heard his lectures, have sung his music-none of these but must to some extent have realised what Parry was and what he stood for; but they are the most fortunate who knew Parry in the earlier days, when The Glories of our blood and State and Blest Pair of Syrens were new, the years which saw De Pro­fundis and Job: those who came under his influence in those times it is who can realise most fully all that Parry did for English music.
Ralph Vaughan Williams The Music Student November 1918 Volume XI No.3 p.79