In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column – an invitation that I found both humbling and daunting! The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in September 2003 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to present a programme of music for voice, clarinet and piano with the theme of ‘summer’. Voice, clarinet and piano is a particularly delightful medium and makes for a very audience-friendly evening. I chose a programme entirely by British composers and thought I would share some of these delightful works with you – some are well-known, but one or two are less so. Long gone are the days when we had to rely solely on Schubert’s Shepherd on the Rock!
We began the programme with Thomas Arne’s When Daisies Pied, which has a clarinet obligato part written by the great Victorian virtuoso Henry Lazarus – my teacher’s, teacher’s, teacher! Furthermore, my teacher (John Davies) was in the audience. I love the connections we can discover if we search around a little, and this was the first of a considerable number. Pamela Weston was the editor of the Arne, and also the dedicatee of our next work – the wonderful Three Songs of Innocence by Arnold Cooke. These were written in the late fifties for Pamela’s Klarion Trio (consisting of herself, Jean Broadley and Eileen Nugent) to words by the great poet William Blake. The poignant and remarkably beautiful middle movement, ‘The Shepherd’, is a gem (and reminds me of those haunting Songs of the Auvergne by Cantaloube). When a student at the Royal Academy of Music, I remember going to play Cooke’s Sonata to him. A very quiet, modest and then quite elderly man, after the performance he simply said ‘very neat’ and signed my copy!
A double connection now as we moved on to the splendid Two Nursery Rhymes by Arthur Bliss in 1920. The work was written for Charles Draper, another pupil of Lazarus, and is a charming setting of two poems by Frances Cornford. The second, ‘The Dandelion’, is for voice and clarinet alone. This work has happily been restored to the catalogue after a short while out of print and is a must for anyone’s library. I said there was a double connection – the second is a fascinating one. The first of the two songs, ‘The Ragwort’, is dedicated to Leslie Heward. Heward was a very promising young composer and conductor who tragically died in his early forties. His daughter, Karen Heward, an assistant at Pinewood Studios, subsequently worked with Malcolm Arnold, the composer of our next song. Beauty Haunts the Woods was written when Malcolm was only thirteen – and it’s a remarkable little piece. Set to words by his elder sister, Ruth, it creates a lingering and evocative atmosphere of great sadness – a chilling prophesy of things to come. (It should be played very slowly by the way!) Frequent readers will know of my interest in Malcolm Arnold and, recently, I edited his Suite Bourgeoise – a brilliant piece for Flute, Oboe and piano. Perhaps rather cheekily I have also included an alternative part for clarinet (instead of oboe) in the publication. Performances of this terrific work seem to bring the house down!
Another connection leads us to the next work – the Four Seasonal Songs by Gordon Jacob (Malcolm Arnold’s teacher) first performed by Thea King and written in the early eighties, shortly before Jacob died. Gordon Jacob wrote over seven hundred works, many of which included the clarinet. The first of the set, ‘Summer’, uses old English and the third, ‘Winter’, is a vocalise. Altogether it is a delightful and skilfully written cycle. The penultimate work was my own Six Clerihew Songs – the poems are very funny ‘four liners’ by a rather eccentric cleric, the Reverend Clerihew Bentley, with a great sense of humour.
We concluded our recital with the Scenes from Tyneside by Phyllis Tate. This pre-dates the Jacob by a few years and is quite a large-scale work, lasting around twenty minutes. Phyllis Tate was married to Alan Frank, head of music at Oxford University Press for many years, but perhaps best known to clarinet players as being the other half of the Thurston and Frank tutor. Tate has contributed a number of important pieces to the repertoire, perhaps the finest being the Sonata for clarinet and cello – a work deserving many more outings that it gets. The Scenes from Tyneside comprise six songs and are freely based on somewhat obscure Northumbrian folk-songs. There are many colourful effects – in the third song, for example, the pianist becomes a tambourine player for the duration of the piece!
After a successful recital we gathered, together with the very friendly and appreciative audience, for a glass of champagne and enjoyed the warm summer evening. Playing music is such an eternal joy!
Nearer the light
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in June 2003 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
The number of fascinating Malcolm Arnold works coming to light is ever growing. On a recent visit to Sir Malcolm’s, I came home with an intriguing work for wind octet. The Overture from Suite for Wind Octet was begun on January 31st 1940 and there are 31 bars completed in pencil. Clearly other projects took over because no more work was done until April when Arnold completed the movement in short score. Sadly he never returned to the work – there are no further movements. I asked a friend to complete the arrangement and so emerged yet another little gem by the young composer.
Over tea with Arnold recently, we discussed the Octet. Although he wrote it over sixty years ago, that old memory still came up trumps. Arnold recalled three influences behind the octet. The ragtime rhythms, which pervade the work, are an indication of his love for jazz, popular and dance music – styles that were to become such a hallmark of his mature work. He even toyed with calling the work ‘Ragtime’. Secondly, Arnold was fiercely anti-war: indeed in 1942 he shot himself in the foot to avoid military service. The middle section, made up of aggressive chords and heavily accented melodic lines, is surely a powerful proclamation of the looming clouds of war and the ever-advancing armies. (The final movement of his Wind Quintet is much in the same vein.) The third influence is the composer’s admiration for the music of Constant Lambert, indeed Arnold told me that ‘there is no man in this world whom I admire more’. Lambert was another composer who had assimilated more popular styles into his music, works such as Rio Grande and the ballet scores – music for which the young Arnold had enormously high regard. Although it is a shame that Arnold didn’t add more movements to this projected suite, we nevertheless have yet another short but worthy work to add to his oeuvres. Like all his early works, the overture was probably written for fellow students at the Royal College of Music, so it was very fitting that the first UK performance was given by students at the RCM’s Junior Department. It is published by Queen’s Temple Publications under the title Overture for Wind Octet.
Arnold aside, some months ago I took two of my students, Charlotte Swift and Jonathan Howse to Germany to have a lesson with the great Karl Leister. At the time of writing, Charlotte is principal clarinet in the National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain (and indeed took part in that first performance of the Overture) and Jonathan has a similarly high position in the National Youth Wind Orchestra. On our arrival we went straight to the Berlin Radio building where we met Karl in an enormous studio. Karl is both uncompromising and hugely inspiring as a teacher, always demanding tremendous control and ceaseless flights of the imagination. During the day he worked on Brahms and Spohr, Weber and Francaix. At one point, Karl made his point through a thought-provoking anecdote. He was listening to a student and at the end of a phrase, asked the student, “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing really,” came the answer. “I can tell,” Karl responded. He would always want to know what was in your mind as each phrase went by and from time to time he would present his own, often deeply-felt interpretation. We were all much moved by his description of the final coda of the first movement of Brahms F minor sonata as ‘life’s resolution and a kind of final acceptance of the mortality of man’. Ultimately it doesn’t matter exactly what you think – but with such a weighty thought in mind, one can hardly give an inexpressive performance. We talked about technique, dynamics, rhythm, sound and projection. At one point during a tense musical moment in the first movement of Spohr’s 2nd Concerto, Karl’s mobile phone rang. “Good heavens! It’s Spohr,” he said.
And finally, to a performance of a wonderful clarinet quartet by Barrington Pheloung that I gave recently. Pheloung wrote the music for the film about the life of the great cellist Jacqueline du Pré, Hilary and Jackie, and the spectacular TV series Inspector Morse. Nearer The Light Now is a very personal work. It represents the composer himself, a devoutly religious man, living in rural bliss in some of the best countryside the east of England has to offer. The music moves from moments of utter stillness and serenity to passages of extreme energy – very well conceived for clarinets, and a real spiritual experience.
Lost and found, the remarkable story of Malcolm Arnold's Wind Quintet
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in March 2003 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
When flipping through the Malcolm Arnold catalogue for some purpose of information gathering, my eye has often alighted on the following: 1942 Wind Quintet – Manuscript lost. Like most wind players, I love the Three Shanties and have played them many times. I’ve long wondered what this tantalising quintet, written just a few months before the Shanties, might be like. Therefore I could hardly contain my excitement when, in early October 2002, I had a phone call from Malcolm’s carer Anthony Day, who told me the quintet had been found and asked me to prepare it for publication. Having brought the manuscript home from Attleborough, I then embarked on some detective work in an attempt to piece together the story of the quintet since its composition, almost exactly 60 years ago. This is what I discovered...
Arnold completed the manuscript on December 20th 1942, when the Second World War was at its height. (Malcolm was fiercely anti-war: indeed he had shot himself in the foot to escape war service.) The quintet was written for the five principal wind players in the London Philharmonic Orchestra (the LPO, in which Malcolm himself was principal trumpet): Richard Adeney (flute); Michael Dobson (oboe); Stephen Waters (clarinet); Charles Gregory (horn) and George Alexandra (bassoon). It had been thought that they gave the first performance on June 7th 1943 at Trinity College of Music in London, but this cannot be confirmed. However on 8th August 1944, the LPO’s chairman Charles Gregory arranged to have the work broadcast by the BBC from their Bristol Overseas Service studios. The players settled down to a full day’s rehearsing when, quite unexpectedly, they were told that the broadcast was in fact to be that very day! Their plans for a long leisurely rehearsal became closer to ten minutes! A quick read-through, a few minutes practising the tricky bits – and then the red light went on. When it went off some fifteen minutes later, the players were unusually stressed, but relieved that the performance had not actually broken down.
And now the plot thickens … The manuscript score and parts (written out by the composer himself) were then lent to the Dennis Brain Quintet – Gareth Morris, Leonard Brain, Stephen Waters, Dennis Brain and Cecil James. (Stephen Waters was the link between the two groups and had presumerably alerted the Brain Quintet to this new piece.) Then all went silent – no sight nor sound of the quintet until Jonathan Wortley – Stephen Waters’ executor, came across an interesting handwritten manuscript about two years after the death of the clarinettist. Nestling among some inconsequential music was the Arnold Quintet, minus the horn part. My friend, the clarinettist, teacher and biographer Pamela Weston not only knew about Stephen Waters, but also had coincidentally received some lessons from him during the war years. She remembers him as being a fine teacher and player but also as rather nervous, scatter-brained and slightly absent-minded. She recalls a bus journey they took together on one of those old red London buses with the pole on to which passengers can grasp as they got on and off. She recalls Stephen getting quite tangled up on this – his clarinet, clothes and indeed self, requiring the young Pamela to attempt to disentangle her teacher! I can only assume that, as librarian to the quintet (after perhaps Dennis had taken his part) Stephen put the work in a box for safe-keeping, and then completely forgot about it!
Typesetting the work – much of which I did myself – was tremendously exciting; gradually seeing the three movements come to life again. Many sonorities and musical ideas appear again in the Shanties and, although this is early Arnold, it will certainly be seen as a very important and significant work. The first movement is tuneful and full of those surprises Arnold loves to introduce in his music – to keep his audiences awake, as he once told me! Those of you who don’t know the early piano sonata (written a couple of months before this quintet) will learn much about his style from that fine work. There is no shortage of jazz-inspired ideas but they are always coloured by that Arnold edge. The second movement is a fiendish scherzo – full of amazing cross rhythms and of immense energy. The final movement is a March and the most emotionally charged. It is clearly very strongly anti-war, with severe and angry dissonances, mocking fanfares, angular and brutal melodic and rhythmic shapes.
As it happened, I had a quintet concert arranged for November 6th at Hartwell House, Oxford, so hastily altered the programme to include the first ‘revival’ performance of the quintet. After a few phone calls I was excited to discover that Richard Adeney, the flute player at that first performance and for whom Arnold wrote all his main flute works, was still very much alive and well. At the age of eighty-two the dapper and sprightly Richard was delighted to attend the performance and spoke to the audience with his memories of Malcolm and the work. Interestingly enough, he had no recollection of the Trinity College performance; but he did remember well that manic broadcast from Bristol! We will never be really sure whether that initial performance at Trinity ever did take place, which makes ours the first live performance – 60 years after the completion of the work.
Malcolm Arnold’s Wind Quintet is now available from Queen’s Temple Publications. It’s without doubt a major addition to the wind quintet repertoire and a very important musical re-discovery of recent times.
Looking backwards and forwards
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in December 2002 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
A few weeks ago, I was delighted to receive an invite from Pamela Weston to a launch party for her new book Yesterday’s Clarinettists: a sequel. I picked up my teacher John Davies from his apartment in Kew and we drove down to the south coast. Surprisingly, the weather held up for us and together with the players Colin Bradbury, Paul Harvey, June Emerson (publisher) and others, we settled down to a wonderful lunch and chat. Among many other fascinating bits of information that emerged was the fact that Pamela’s mother and John’s father both played in the same orchestra in Eastbourne – they were virtual neighbours as children, though it was many years before they actually met!
Pamela’s book is full of gems. Being a pupil of a pupil of a pupil of Henry Lazarus, one of my personal favourites concerns the great patriarch of English clarinet playing himself. In September 1872, Lazarus organised a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. It was to be a concert ‘to enable all classes to enjoy music at exceedingly low prices.’ Indeed many of the tickets were priced at 3 pence. The punters certainly got their money’s worth – there was sufficient music in the programme to fill up two or three evenings by today’s standards!
Part of my work is as an examiner for the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music. I also do quite a bit of ‘behind the scenes’ work and I’m presently involved in coordinating a new series of exams for young players which are to be called Music Medals. Within the state education system in the UK, Music Services provide lessons for anyone who wishes to take up an instrument. Owing to the numbers involved, a lot of pupils are taught in groups and in the hands of a skilful and imaginative teacher such teaching is both extremely effective and successful. This series of exams has been designed to provide structure to such teaching, and will include playing both solo and ensemble music and a choice of ‘musicianship’ tests: sight-reading or improvising a completion to a given musical idea. (This is very timely in view of the fact that the Government has recently stated that every child should have access to instrumental music lessons.) The Music Medals team have been commissioning various composers to write specially-dedicated ensemble music for use in these exams, and as a result some wonderful stuff has been popping through my letterbox. If nothing else, the repertoire for small ensembles will be greatly enhanced.
In this column I have previously mentioned ‘Unbeaten Tracks’ – a collection of new pieces that I have recently edited, featuring eight clarinet pieces by contemporary composers. The word ‘contemporary’ often conjures up images of incomprehensible rhythms, mutiphonics and extreme technical difficulties. In this volume (published by Faber Music) we’ve tried to put together works that are stimulating and engaging, whilst being completely approachable technically. None of the pieces use contemporary techniques as such (except a bit of key tapping!) but rather, each composer has used the opportunity to explore their own conception of melody at the start of the twenty-first century. In this way it makes for a particularly interesting ‘document’. Perhaps the most traditional sort of melody has been contributed by Christopher Gunning (composer of much music for television and film) and the most futuristic, by Lloyd Moore. The Australian composer Peter Sculthorpe has written a charming miniature ‘Reef Singing’ and there is an effective Brittenesque March by Huw Watkins. For anyone interested in broadening their repertoire, this volume is well worth a look.
On a lighter note, I’m shortly off to South East Asia to give a series of workshops and classes. Before I go, my quintet has a recital in which we are including a rather whimsical piece of mine called The Unhappy Aardvark (for Wind Quintet plus narrator). We were to be joined by Bruce Boa as the narrator (perhaps best known for playing the part of the General in Star Wars!). Regrettably Bruce fell over last week and can’t walk at the moment. But he has arranged for a friend to take his place and that friend is the actor Shane Rimmer – star of three James Bond and two Superman movies, and voice of Scott Tracy in Thunderbirds. I can’t wait!
Music fit for a Queen
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in September 2002 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
Today is the Queen’s Golden Jubilee! The sun is shining; red, white and blue bunting adorns the front of houses and shops everywhere, and thousands have been sleeping in tents on the pavement overnight to catch a glimpse of the Queen as she rides past in her splendid golden carriage. I’ve just returned from giving a special Jubilee concert at one of England’s distinguished stately homes. It was a concert of music by composers who have had some connection with the second Elizabethan age, and included Walton’s Façade, some Elgar, Finzi and Richard Rodney Bennett (and I rather cheekily slipped in one of my own chamber pieces – a trio for flute, clarinet and piano). It’s interesting how we rely on music by such composers in putting together programmes for this kind of event. So much music written by contemporary composers, though of great value, remains elusive to your enthusiastic, but ‘non-specialist’, music-loving audience. But it’s not only the ‘non-specialists’ who are unfamiliar with this music – I wonder how many of us could really say we know any of the music of Oliver Knussen, Thomas Ades, George Benjamin, James Macmillan, Robin Holloway, or a host of other hard-working contemporary British composers? And regrettably I would have to include myself to a degree; but I am trying to broaden my knowledge and I do my best to listen and learn a couple of new works each week. I suppose it is still in the nature of things that we are both suspicious and wary of anything ‘new’ in the world of the creative arts. A great pity really.
As part of the Jubilee celebrations, the Queen invited an audience of twelve thousand into her (evidently quite large!) garden for a concert of classical music. I was delighted that among some internationally-renowned names in the music world, my erstwhile pupil Julian Bliss had been asked to take part. This of course is wonderful for the clarinet world and my hope is that thousands of young people will identify with him and will wish to try their hand at playing the clarinet. Julian always communicates a tremendous sense of joy that his audience cannot fail to recognise. Here in the UK, many young people want to learn the guitar, drums, saxophone or vocals. I hope Julian will become something of a role model and inspire many to take up instruments that perhaps don’t have quite so much ‘street cred’ but are nevertheless providers of a great deal of potential and lasting pleasure.
We have also recently experienced the bi-annual BBC Young Musician of the Year competition. As with all competitions, this event arouses strong feelings among the musical fraternity. The usual questions and dilemmas again present themselves – and we all have our own well-rehearsed points of view. But whatever we think, competitions are very much part of our culture. As long as we approach them with wisdom and circumspection they are ultimately valuable. As it was, the competition was won by a prodigious twelve-year-old violinist. But the wind section was represented by the young clarinettist Sarah Williamson – a name I’m sure we will be hearing much of over the years. Her performance of the Copland Concerto displayed immense colour, brilliance and imagination. In a way it’s a bold choice for such an event – the long lyrical opening movement is not perhaps ideal competition-winning fare. But Sarah is clearly not a musician to be compromised by such thoughts and she played it with immaculate control. The second movement was breathtaking in its dazzling technical command and breadth of musical colour.
And finally, by the time you read this Pamela Weston’s two important books, Clarinet Virtuosi of the Past and More Clarinet Virtuosi of the Past will have been re-published by Emerson Edition. These are books that should be on every clarinet player’s shelf. And Pamela has just finished yet another volume entitled Yesterday’s Clarinettists: a sequel, which will be available by late July (also Emerson). Pamela tells me that she has included information on over 600 new names as well as new facts concerning over 400 of the players discussed in the first two volumes. Amazing!
A trip through time
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in June 2002 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
I was having lunch with the clarinettist, teacher and biographer Pamela Weston a few weeks ago and our wide-ranging conversation turned, for a time, to the fascinating subject of clarinet dynasties. Consequently, for this letter, I thought I might consider my particular ‘dynasty’ and discover something of the historical background that has coloured and shaped my own approach to teaching and playing the clarinet.
I was taught by John Davies, who was Senior Professor of clarinet at the Royal Academy of Music in London for over forty years from 1951. John is a great teacher – his work is based on an understanding that education is all about ‘drawing out’ not ‘putting in’. His pupils are taught to think for themselves; to develop a flexible sound that is successful in chamber music, in an orchestral section, in jazz or as a classical soloist. He teaches his pupils to consider the broader picture and in so doing, develop a parallel interest and love of the other great creative arts – literature, painting and drama. He instils a confidence in his pupils, allowing them to embrace the highly-charged musical world without arrogance or superiority. His pupils number international soloists, generations of highly-distinguished orchestral and chamber music players and many fine teachers.
John grew up at a time before the proliferation of recordings; at a time before our obsession with ‘sound’. Up until about the middle of the twentieth century, you simply played the clarinet; the sound was not cause for great debate and much soul-searching as it is now. John recalls that his teacher, George Anderson, didn’t devote much teaching time to sound; no attempt was made to make a particular kind of sound – you simply developed a clean and refined tone – there was no more to it than that. In John’s opinion, it was the growth of jazz that brought about the major development of interest and potential for sound quality. Most players of the time employed the more severe military embouchure and a reasonably narrow lay mouthpiece to produce the type of sound so beautifully encapsulated in the playing of the legendary Jack Thurston (a player for whom John has much regard). It was the jazz players who brought a new, slacker embouchure and consequently a wider sound and vibrato to their playing. The English player Reginald Kell brought such features to the ‘classical’ clarinet sound and in doing so, significantly changed the course of clarinet playing thereafter. The sound became a central ‘feature’; there was now a choice to be made.
John was appointed to take over from his distinguished teacher George Anderson, who died that year, having devoted the final ten years of his life to his Academy students. Anderson was born in 1867 – Brahms had yet to write his Sonatas, and the great Weber works had been around for little over fifty years. He was principally an orchestral player and was to spend nearly forty years in the London Symphony Orchestra. He also played in the Scottish Orchestra, the Beecham Opera Company and the BBC Military Band. He gave one of the first performances of Coleridge-Taylor’s wonderful but sadly neglected Clarinet Quintet. He played on the Boehm system, which at the time was still quite a novelty. Pamela Weston writes that he is reputed to have made a sweet and delicate tone. John remembers that he took care of his pupils (for example, when John asked to be released early from a lesson owing to the birth of his son, after initial outrage Anderson soon relented and took John out for a celebratory lunch!). Among his other distinguished pupils number Georgina Dobree, Bernard Walton and indeed Pamela Weston had a number of lessons with him.
Anderson was a pupil of the great nineteenth-century player Henry Lazarus who was born in London in 1815 – the year of the Battle of Waterloo and some months before Weber composed his Grand Duo. Lazarus was a military bandsman but clearly an exceptional player, both orchestrally and as a soloist. He was also an enthusiast, commissioning works and arrangements by living composers of the time and writing many showpieces himself. He also wrote one of the most influential tutors of the time: his New and Modern Method of 1881. Though long and comprehensive it is nevertheless, of its time, user-friendly and takes into account the need for cumulative learning (unlike one of my favourite contemporary clarinet methods that states ‘The student should commit to memory the fingerings and use of the keys before attempting to produce the sound – see diagrams.’ There follows about 8 pages of complex fingerings taking the beginner up to top C – 3 octaves above middle C!). Lazarus taught both at the Royal Academy of Music and the Royal College of Music; he recommended the modern Boehm system (though never actually played it himself) and was clearly a great character. He lived for ninety years and his influence over clarinet playing in Britain in the twentieth century and beyond cannot be understated.
I’ve always believed it very important to have a sense of history – to know about one’s own time and the events and people that have shaped one’s own life. I often think of those words by the celebrated writer John Keats, ‘To know your past is to know yourself’. I always feel a great sense of history sitting with John Davies in his living room in south London, where, hanging on the wall, he has a signed picture of his teacher’s teacher – the great Henry Lazarus. It is at once humbling and a source of great energy.
Buried Treasure
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in March 2002 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
Regular readers will now know of my interest in discovering and promoting ‘buried treasures’ of the clarinet repertoire. I wonder how many know the name of the English composer Robin Milford? Milford was a contemporary of Gerald Finzi and his music is much in the same mould. Connected to a number of famous educational institutions, he began as a pupil at Rugby School (where the composer Arthur Bliss had studied previously), went on to the Royal College of Music where his teachers included Holst and Vaughan Williams, and later taught at Ludgrove and Downe House schools. But, since his death in 1959, his work has been largely forgotten. At this present time, there is only one Milford clarinet work in print: the Lyrical Movement written in 1948 for the clarinettist Alan Frank. Frank was editor at the Oxford University Press (OUP), and co-wrote the famous Thurston and Frank Clarinet Method. The Lyrical Movement, first published by OUP, subsequently went out of print and is now re-published by Thames Publishing. It is well worth a look; a delightful movement, rather sad and wistful but elegantly written for the instrument. In addition, in 1933 Milford wrote a Concertino for Clarinet and Strings but this, sadly, has been lost. The Phantasy Quintet for Clarinet and String Quartet was also composed in 1933, and in 1948 a Trio for clarinet, cello and piano for Pauline Juler, a top clarinettist of the day.
As well as the Lyrical Movement I also knew of some lovely pieces for flute and piano so a year or two ago, I decided to undertake some research into Milford’s work. This research took me to the famous Bodleian Library in the heart of Oxford. The Bodleian own many of Milford’s manuscripts and I was very excited about what I might find there. It is a very grand and dusty place and before I was allowed in, I had to sign a document swearing never to burn the place down (yet another wonderful old Oxford University tradition!). It is an intimidating building. You don’t see any books or manuscripts – they are all kept well-hidden in deep vaults. You have to make a request, in writing, to the rather severe librarian, and, after a long wait, the item will finally be brought to you. But the long wait in that stark annex was well worth it! Among the manuscripts I asked to see was the Clarinet Quintet; twenty-four pages of neat pen-and-ink writing. The second page bears the interesting inscription, written in pencil in Milford’s hand, that ‘the material of this piece furnished me later with the 1st movement of my violin concerto’. (This particular work was written some four years later, but I suspect it has probably received few performances since its first under the baton of Clarence Raybould in 1938.)
Milford’s closest living relative is his niece, Marion Milford. My friend Christopher (Kiffer) Finzi, Gerald’s son, knows her well and offered to contact her for me. It has taken about four years to do so! But, to my delight, a few weeks ago I received a letter from Kiffer saying that she was very pleased indeed to give my publishing company, Queen’s Temple Publications, permission to publish the Clarinet Quintet. The piece is somewhat rhapsodic in character and the clarinet writing is highly characteristic, and not too demanding. It begins ‘pp’ and ends ‘ppp’ but journeys through moments of great lyricism and drama. Alan Frank may have played it, but sadly he died a few years ago, and I can find no trace of any performance. Perhaps one of the educational establishments with which Milford was connected might be the venue for the ‘first’ performance, nearly seventy years after the Quintet’s composition! I hope clarinet players around the world will wish to explore this small but significant unknown musical treasure.
An eventful summer
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in December 2001 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
I love the summer and always feel a tinge of sadness as the long, warm evenings begin to close in and the wonderful scents and colours in my small, but reasonably well-tended, English country garden begin to fade. To compensate I work doubly hard! So here’s what I’ve been up to (although no doubt you’ll be thinking about decorating the Christmas tree and buying the Christmas pudding by the time you read this!) ...
I’ve just finished playing in this year’s Stowe Opera production of Dvorak’s Rusalka. And what a gem of an opera it is; marvellous melodies, and particularly gorgeous clarinet writing too! We present a very similar package to the more widely-known Glyndebourne Opera – a long interval in which to enjoy a relaxing outdoor picnic between acts, with the fabulous eighteenth-century gardens at Stowe providing the perfect setting.
As well as teaching, playing and writing, I also have my own small publishing company, Queen’s Temple Publications. In this capacity, I spent a fascinating evening at Sir Malcolm Arnold’s home a few weeks ago, which has resulted in three particularly interesting works being added to our catalogue. We were searching through some old boxes that normally reside in the Arnold attic, and came across a song. The words were by Arnold’s sister, and the piece composed when he was about 13. Beauty Haunts the Woods is a delightful song and studying it carefully, I could see the potential for adding a clarinet part. (As an aside, readers ought to know the Three Songs of Innocence by Arnold Cooke for voice, clarinet and piano– a favourite of mine and a fine work for this slightly neglected combination). I took the music home and made the arrangement; Sir Malcolm approved and so it will be appearing soon.
Next, we found a piano piece written when Arnold was 17 – Dream City. Even though it was written at this tender age, it has all the hallmarks of the composer’s style. Again, I felt it could be very successful as an arrangement and this time the textures cried out for setting as a wind quintet. I had no doubt that Arnold had originally conceived the piece with orchestral sounds in mind. He has always had such an ear for colour – and this piece made such a natural transition from piano to wind quintet that that I felt he must have been thinking instrumentally when it was first composed, in 1938. The third piece is the most exciting and readers may already know it in the clarinet and orchestra version. The ‘Scherzetto’ from the film You Know What Sailors Are, made in 1953, has been recorded both by Thea King and John Bradbury. It is due to be published for clarinet and piano and demonstrates the composer in fine form. Written just a couple of years after the Sonatina, there are many similarities with his most popular work – the scurrying semiquavers/sixteenth notes, the fondness for melodic semitones and the sheer vitality and good humour of the tunes. At the time of writing, I am arranging a recital in Norwich where the ‘first’ performance of these works will take place in the presence of the composer, just a week after Sir Malcolm’s 80th birthday.
The new academic year is about to begin and in the UK, schools and Music Services (regional organisations that co-ordinate instrumental teaching in Government-maintained schools) prepare in-service ‘training’ a few days before the term begins. I will therefore be travelling far and wide over the next week; to institutions in Scotland and Wales, and the lovely cities of Oxford and Bath. It is a real privilege to work with enthusiastic teachers discussing ideas, strategies, approach and philosophy. I love this work – it is both highly stimulating and rewarding – and I learn a huge amount from it. It also allows me to meet some wonderful people who really understand the immense joy of teaching – their pupils are very lucky.
Among the various books I am working at presently is a volume of new clarinet music, specially commissioned from contemporary composers all over the world. The twist is that the music is must be approachable to younger players who may not yet have particularly advanced technique. Music in the most up-to-date idioms should not just be the preserve of the ‘professional’ and I hope this collection may prove a little bit ground-breaking! More about it next year.
Happy Christmas!
Tea and Bagatelles with the Finzis
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in September 2001 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
Readers of my previous letter may be begining to think that I spend much of my time having tea with musical celebrities! A few weeks ago, I took a pupil to play Gerald Finzi’s Five Bagatelles to the composer’s son, Christopher. The Finzi family has been living in Church Farm – a wonderfully sprawling house designed by Gerald himself – for years. The book-lined room where Jonathan performed was the very one in which the work was written and our pianist accompanied on the very piano Gerald used to compose the music. This is Finzi’s centenary year and his music is, deservedly, receiving a great many performances, with over twenty professional performances of the Concerto and at least a similar number of the Five Bagatelles programmed over the next few months alone. There will undoubtedly be others.
The Bagatelles were written over a four-year period and Boosey & Hawkes did not, at first, intend to publish them as a set. The Prelude, Romance, Carol and Forlana were given their first performance by Pauline Juler and Howard Ferguson at the National Gallery in London on January 15th 1943, at one of the famous war-time concerts there. The Carol was probably written first; the Fughetta was added later that year. Gerald may have used the title ‘Carol’ in its old English meaning of a song, or perhaps he intended it as kind of Christmas carol without words. Whichever, it is a delightfully charming miniature full of imagery and subtlety: is that the clock striking six – or seven? – at the end, heralding the dawn of Christmas Day? The Prelude is a substantial movement and, in the words of an early review in The Times ‘shows that a diatonic scale may still be used as the basis of a vigorous theme’. Finzi’s use of counterpoint and imaginative textures in this and indeed each of the movements, guarantee that this piece is more than just an occasional trifle – a mere bagatelle – there is always much for the musical intellect to savour.
The Romance is full of delicious melody and countermelody and the middle section, for me at least, is quintessential Finzi. The appearance of the Forlana on exam syllabuses in the UK (from shortly after its composition) has ensured its familiarity to practically every British clarinettist. Evidently the title gave Finzi cause for concern. He couldn’t decide whether it was a ‘Forlane’ (a type of Neapolitan dance) or a ‘Berceuse’. His friend, the composer Edmund Rubbra (1901-1986) suggested (with tongue firmly in cheek) that he might consider ‘Berlane’ or ‘Forceuse’! For those with an analytical bent, it is full of fascinating compositional devices.
The Fughetta came last and caused Finzi some anxiety; ‘It has turned out to be rather larger in scale and more difficult than the others and I only hope that it’s not outside the Bagatelles’ radius’, he wrote to his friend Howard Ferguson. He needn’t have worried; it is a fitting and balanced finale.
Jonathan’s performance of this lovely work in the intimate surroundings of Gerald Finzi’s music room was a very special experience. The ‘mini-recital’ also included Howard Ferguson’s ‘Four Short Pieces’ – a work that sits very closely in style to the Bagatelles. Written a few years before the Finzi, and perhaps of slightly lesser stature, they make a perfectly delightful concert item.
After the concert, Jonathan had his picture taken sitting in a chair that once belonged to George Washington! (I can never remember the details of how the Finzi family came by this wonderfully historical piece of furniture, but there was a link in the families that goes back many years.) The garden boasts two very fascinating features. One of these is the apple orchard: Gerald loved growing apples, and one can still find (and enjoy!) many of the varieties he cultivated. The second is the well. It is perhaps the deepest well in England and we were treated to an exciting fireworks display as Christopher lit a newspaper and dropped it down...
In composing the Five Bagatelles, and, some years later, the wonderful Clarinet Concerto, Gerald Finzi probably never imagined what lasting pleasure he would give to clarinet players and audiences alike. It is a small, but very important legacy.
Sir Malcolm
In the Summer of 2000 I had the great pleasure of meeting James Gillespie, editor of The Clarinet Journal, during the International Clarinet Association (ICA) convention in Oklahoma. James asked me if I would like to contribute a regular column. These personal reflections are now reprinted with his permission. The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in March 2001 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.
Last weekend I was privileged to have tea with the great composer Sir Malcolm Arnold. Without doubt he’s the elder statesman of British music and a composer whose stature seems to grow as the years pass. This particular meeting was to allow Sir Malcolm to hear my 14-year-old pupil, Jonathan Howse, play his wonderful Sonatina. Sir Malcolm was visibly moved by the performance and afterwards we had the opportunity to chat about the piece. I’ve played it, talked about it and taught it so many times yet didn’t know that the very first performance was given by the British conductor Sir Colin Davis (a clarinettist in his younger days!). Even at the age of 80, Sir Malcolm has a tremendous memory, and he spoke of thirty and forty year-old experiences with great clarity and enthusiasm.
Arnold’s contribution to the clarinet repertoire is of great significance. His clarinet writing is always idiomatic; the lyrical and reflective nature of the instrument is omnipresent alongside the energetic, robust and virtuosic. In addition to the Sonatina, there are the two concertos and the Fantasy for Unaccompanied Clarinet. The clarinet features in the exhilarating Three Shanties for Wind Quintet (a real favourite of mine) and the colourful Divertimento for Wind Trio. Also, we can sometimes forget that he wrote over 70 film scores, and often included intricate clarinet solos in many of them, knowing that they would be recorded by his great friend Frederick ‘Jack’ Thurston. In fact much of his music has been written for particular friends in mind. Often it is the character and nature of these friends that pervade and inspire the substance of particular works: again, Jack Thurston haunts both the First Concerto and the Sonatina; and Benny Goodman was clearly peering over the composer’s shoulder when Arnold was writing his Second Concerto!
I am particularly happy that my own publishing company, Queen’s Temple Publications, publish the Divertimento for two clarinets Op. 135. It was written in July 1988 and, given that Arnold has not composed anything for a good number of years now, is one of his very last works. It’s a further important addition to Arnold’s championing of the instrument and is perhaps most akin to the Wind Divertimento. Both works are cast in six short, vividly defined movements. Both combine that unmistakable wit and sumptuous melodic writing with moments of darker and more serious writing.
Sir Malcolm now lives in Norfolk, near the East coast, not far from the home of another of our great 20th-century composers, Benjamin Britten. The walls of Sir Malcolm’s main living room are covered in large portraits of himself at varying stages of his distinguished life, and it is quite easy to trip over one of his old trumpets, which are scattered informally about the floor! (He spent many years as principal trumpet in the London Philharmonic Orchestra and clearly likes to be constantly reminded of this!) And you can’t miss the very large television which resides in the corner, on which he loves watching his old films. My teacher, John Davies and Sir Malcolm had been good friends for many years (John had in fact given one of the earliest, if not the first broadcast performances of the Sonatina) and he spoke warmly of their shared experiences. We took a few pictures and Sir Malcolm signed Jonathan’s copy of the Sonatina before we finally bade our farewells. Being such an important anniversary year for Sir Malcolm, I suspect we shall be hearing a lot of the composer’s music over the next twelve months. And quite right too! Those who still regard Sir Malcolm Arnold as a composer of light music will have the chance to discover that his musical language has a deeper vein; and all will be able to celebrate the achievement of one of the greatest voices of our time.