...and another 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 – an invitation that I found both humbling and daunting! The following ‘Letter from the UK’ was first published in December 2005 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

I recently gave a performance of the charming Beethoven Trio for clarinet, cello and piano. The combination works well and it’s therefore surprising that so comparatively few composers have seen the potential for the dark brooding colours, passionate melodies and the kind of energy that the three instruments can conjure. There are one or two British works worthy of study: Benjamin Frankel’s Trio Op. 10 is now sadly out of print but available from libraries. (His quintet, written in 1956 for Thea King, is a haunting work. Thea’s recording of it on Hyperion’s collection of English Clarinet Quintets should be in everyone’s library). There is an interesting work (especially for American readers) by the lesser-known Kenneth Leighton: Fantasy on an American Hymn Tune Op. 70, written in 1974 for Gervase de Peyer and published by Novello. 
But the reason I’m taking you down this particular avenue is because a fascinating manuscript has just come into my possession. It did receive a first performance, but has been lost, hidden away in a box in a cupboard for nearly fifty years. It is a Trio for clarinet, cello and piano by Malcolm Williamson, the late ‘Master of the Queen’s Music’ who died in March 2003. Williamson’s life was as colourful as his near contemporary Malcolm Arnold. He wrote symphonies, operas, ballets and a considerable amount of other music in just about every genre (including the music for two Hammer Horror films!). But his name is now virtually forgotten. Clarinet players ought at least to know his Pas de Deux for clarinet and piano; a delicious movement taken from his Pas de Quatre for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and piano and published as a ‘stand-alone’ solo. The work was written in 1967 for the Metropolitan Opera Ballet and first performed at the Newport Festival, Rhode Island. 

As far as I know, the Trio was given just one performance at the Aldeburgh Festival in 1958 before it disappeared. The performers were Harrison Birtwhistle (clarinet), John Dow (cello) and Cornelius Cardew (piano). Quite a line up! It is dedicated to Imogen Holst (Gustav Holst’s daughter) and is cast in one continuous movement marked ‘Poco Lento’. Birtwhistle (who studied the clarinet at the Royal Academy of Music with John Davies) must have had some technique, as much of the part is in the highest register (up to top B flats), often as short tongued notes marked down to ppp! Williamson was, at that time, experimenting with serial music; this piece however looks to be firmly rooted in F minor and explores the sonorities of all three instruments in a colourful and imaginative way. It looks a fascinating piece and certainly an intriguing addition to the repertoire.

A slightly later work is the Concerto for Wind Quintet and Two Pianos, composed in 1964 and published by Weinberger. It’s a sturdy work, technically and musically demanding, but very much worthy of performance. Next year is the 75th anniversary of Malcolm Williamson’s birth (he was born on November 21st, 1931) and there are going to be quite a number of performances of his music in the UK. 
On another note, I received a very pleasant package the other day. It was a recording of a voice, clarinet and piano recital given in Kenmore, Washington, by American clarinettist David Frank. He had included Malcolm Arnold’s lovely song Beauty haunts the Woods and my own Clerihew Songs as well as many other works for the combination. And talking of Malcolm Arnold – it’s his 85th birthday next year! I hope many of you will be featuring his music to celebrate this. Do let me know and I shall pass the news on; he’s always absolutely delighted to hear of performances.

Elegance and sophistication - some secret English repertoire

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 2005 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

When I was at school, one of the most memorable musical events I took part in was a performance of an enormous work by a British composer of whom you may well not have heard. A Time for Growing was positively Wagnerian in its scale – written for orchestra, two choirs, actors, dancers, soloists, speakers and even a large percussion band, it tells the story of The Creation. The performance took place in London’s great Royal Albert Hall, and for me, a mere 14-year-old, it was a quite spectacular experience. The composer was Antony Hopkins (not the actor!), best-known for his 36-year-long stint as a broadcaster here in the UK. In fact his radio programme, Talking about Music, became something of a national treasure. In each episode he would discuss, in simple terms, a piece of music that particularly fascinated him. I had the pleasure of having tea with him a few weeks back, in his highly characterful house in the middle of a very large park just north of Berkhampstead in Hertfordshire. Among his many works there is a very pleasant and well-constructed little Fantasy for Clarinet, written for Gervase de Peyer in 1951. I took my copy with me for Tony to sign and we spoke about the English ‘clarinet character piece’. You’ll know the Finzi Bagatelles of course, and possibly the Dunhill Phantasy Suite and Ferguson Four Short Pieces. But there are many more...

One of my very favourites is Alan Richardson’s Roundelay. Alan, a quiet and thoughtful professor at the Royal Academy of Music, was married to the great oboist Janet Craxton and wrote and arranged a number of pieces for the clarinet. But Roundelay is certainly his most attractive. A short single movement, its charming lyricism is as quintessentially English as you could possibly imagine. Well worth slipping into a recital, or using as a gentle encore piece.
Can you think of a more appropriate title for a short and amiable pastoral miniature than The Wistful Shepherd? Such is the title given by Clarence Raybould to his 1939 reverie for clarinet and piano. It stretches neither the mind nor the technique, but would undoubtedly delight any audience. Raybould was a conductor and something of an eccentric who distinguished himself in the First World War. As a young clarinettist, my teacher, John Davies, remembers being driven about the Welsh countryside by Clarence Raybould on their way to a concert. An experience he recalls many many years later with more than a certain distress! Evidently Raybould was not too reliable behind the wheel, and would happily down a generous number of pints before setting out (well before laws prohibited such recklessness!).

Antony Hopkins’ Fantasy was written in 1951 and is a little more substantial than either of the above works. But not as substantial as Robin Milford’s Lyrical Movement, one of a number of works written for Alan Frank. Alan was in charge of Oxford University Press Music for many years, and the other half of the Thurston and Frank Tutor. Milford, a friend of Gerald Finzi, also wrote a wonderful Phantasy Quintet for clarinet and string quartet. Both the Milford clarinet works should be programmed and heard on a regular basis. They both understand the instrument well and test the player, presenting some musical and technical challenges well worth tackling. Also written for Alan Frank was Herbert Murrill’s Prelude, Cadenza and Fugue. Murrill was Head of Music at the BBC, as well as composing music for films and the concert hall. A pupil of York Bowen and Alan Bush, his music has obvious roots in the English pastoral style, but there is a little more grit to be found in this short and arresting work. 
Moving back to music redolent of the English countryside, there are the four pieces by Frederick Kell (father of player Reginald Kell). They make a splendid set and have indeed been recorded by Verity Butler on the British Composer Series (under the title, Clarinet Kaleidoscope). Finally there is A Truro Maggot by Philip Browne, famously recorded by Thurston in 1937 and available on Clarinet Classics. It’s a very jolly little piece; full of English wit – understated and undemanding, but like all the works I’ve mentioned, brimming with character. 

I hope I may have whetted your appetite for some of these enchanting and, in some cases, slightly more challenging pieces. They deserve to be played, and I would have no hesitation in assuring you of a very favourable audience reaction!
Finally, on the subject of Reginald Kell, I’m delighted to see that many of his wonderful recordings have been re-issued in a bumper six-CD set. Among this treasure trove is the Richardson Roundelay which he plays with his customary sense of timing and rhythmic movement. A pupil of mine was studying the Weber Concertino recently and I therefore looked through my many different editions. I took care not to look at the editor and was delighted to find, after much deliberation, that the one that really got to the heart of the music, as well as closest to Weber’s operatic style, was Kells’.

Some foolish fancies

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 May 2005 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

I wonder whether you have a copy of the Temple-Savage Difficult Passages from the Symphonic Repertoire? These three worthy volumes of over five hundred and fifty carefully-selected orchestral excerpts were published by Boosey and Hawkes in 1947. The writer, Richard Temple-Savage, was a pupil of Charles Draper and Jack Thurston and a founder player, alongside the young Jack Brymer, of the Ernest Read Orchestra. He went on to study at the Royal College of Music and then joined the London Philharmonic Orchestra under Sir Thomas Beecham as bass clarinet and librarian. His LPO years must have been as rewarding as they were gruelling. Two concerts a day (especially through the war years), often in different parts of the country, inspired him to write his Five Foolish Fancies for a number of his colleagues including Malcolm Arnold, the clarinettist Nick Tschaicov and flute player Richard Adeney. This evidently entertaining work (sadly now lost) – with movements including ‘Overture to a Reluctant Landlady’, ‘Looking for Digs’, ‘No rehearsal’ and ‘No Beer’ – must have cheered his fellow players up no end, as well as being one of the first pieces to make use of such frivolous titles! Nick Tschaicov tells me that ‘Dick’ also wrote him some interesting studies (also lost) and was thought, at the time, of as one of the grand old gentlemen of the orchestra. Later he moved on to the Covent Garden Orchestra where he was also librarian – and thus again surrounded by scores and parts, which must have spurred on the writing of his now famous three volumes. Evidently Boosey and Hawkes were not keen on including parts for the A clarinet, which is why all the ‘A’ excerpts include a transposition for B flat. These very useful books are still available and soon to celebrate their 60th birthday. 
Some very good news concerning my pupil Julian Bliss – following his excellent debut CD for EMI, he has been invited to record exclusively for EMI on their main label. Among his recent adventures, he’s been out to China to play the Nielsen and Mozart Concertos.

You may be horrified by my next announcement! You may consider it an absolute sacrilege or, on the other hand, you may think it practical and timely. Let me keep you in suspense a little longer ... As a teacher I’ve always been tremendously keen to give as many of my pupils as possible the chance to play great music; it lifts their spirits to begin grappling with the major works in the repertoire. And it deepens their musical understanding. Just as one often plays so much better and perceives so much more when sitting next to a superior player in an orchestra, young players respond to the study and performance of master works with a perceptible increase of comprehension and insight. A significant problem with some of these masterworks, however (and I’m thinking of the Sonatas by Brahms and Reger, for example), is that they have formidable piano parts. And this often inhibits performance opportunities, as the number of accompanists able to take on these mammoth pianistic challenges may be few and far between. It’s long been a desire of mine to do something about this, so here’s the revelation: I’m about to publish an edition of the Brahms E Flat Sonata with a much-simplified piano accompaniment.Whether this strikes you with horror or delight, let me explain the process and try to put your mind at rest. Working closely with a wonderful pianist, Benjamin Davey, we have discussed, trialled, re-written and re-trialled until we’ve ended up with a piano part that remains true to Brahmsian sonorities whilst being technically very much easier to play. We’re calling the edition Rehearsal Brahms in the hope that many clarinet teachers (who may have limited pianistic ability) can finally give their pupils a strong taste of the full musical picture and help in beginning to unlock the secrets of this extraordinary work. And in addition it gives young clarinettists the chance to pair up with their pianist friends to play through and work on the piece on their own. But I also suspect that it may be used in performances too – allowing many more players the profound joy of performing Brahms in public. If the edition is met with a positive response we may well have a go at doing the same for one or two more great works. Reactions are welcome!

From Manchester to Berlin

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 March 2005 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of meeting up with the composer Alexander (Sandy) Goehr at his house just outside Cambridge. Together with Harrison Birtwhistle, Peter Maxwell-Davies and John Ogden, these composers make up the so-called ‘Manchester Four’; four brilliant students studying together at the Royal Manchester College of Music in the 1940s. Sandy went on, after more studies with Messiaen and Loriod in Paris and a career in teaching, to become highly regarded as Professor of Music at Cambridge University for many years, retiring just a few years ago. Readers with broad musical tastes may know his wonderful Monteverdi Paraphrase for unaccompanied clarinet, but may not be aware of his much earlier Fantasias Op. 3 for Clarinet and Piano. It’s a very difficult serial work but well worth study. The first performance was given by Birtwhistle and Ogden in January 1956 but it was championed by my teacher, John Davies, who also taught Birtwhistle.
John Davies remembers having help with the work from Erwin Stein, a great teacher and authority on serial composition and performance. If you haven’t read his marvellous book Form and Performance, head for your local library! Stein was a little old man at the time, but would dance about the room on his toes, singing and directing the performance. John and his pianist Else Cross (herself a pupil of Webern) went on to give performances all over Europe, as well as the first broadcast performance in May 1958. The three movements last about ten minutes, don’t involve any ‘modern’ techniques, and reap many rewards for the performer who is prepared to put in some really hard work, technically, rhythmically and musically!

Last weekend I went to Berlin for the final event of the tremendously successful Faszination Klarinette exhibition, mentioned in my previous letter. And what an event it was! Karl Leister played both the Mozart and Brahms quintets with the Leipzig Quartet. Karl’s playing is quite sublime – his interpretations at once sophisticated and subtle, his tone uniquely mellifluous and flowing. The five players followed their performance by returning to the stage and taking part in a question-and-answer session with the audience. What a wonderful idea – we ought to do this kind of thing more often. My German meant that about ninety-nine percent of it passed me by – but I enjoyed witnessing the enthusiasm and real interest shown by this very intelligent and clearly informed gathering. After the event, and a chat with Karl, we wandered around the exhibition picking up many exhibits I seemed to have missed first time round; the first edition of Weber’s Quintet, for example, and a catalogue of instruments once belonging to Henry Lazarus. We also explored the museum further, looking at other exhibits – perhaps the most extraordinary being a contra-bass saxophone, which was almost big enough to hide inside! (The kind of noises it might produce are fascinating to imagine!)

As usual, my letter wouldn’t be complete without some Sir Malcolm Arnold news. On a recent visit, Arnold’s carer Anthony Day asked whether I would do a wind octet arrangement of the terrific music for Hobson’s Choice, the wonderful David Lean film starring Charles Laughton and John Mills. There is already an Overture for wind octet – a very effective single movement written in 1942, and the late Wind Octet Op. 137 written for the Manchester Camerata Wind Soloists in 1988. The latter is not one of Arnold’s greatest works, but nevertheless very much worth a look. And I am at present in negotiation with a recording company to make a new CD of all these wind works – so watch this space!

Two launches and a birthday

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 December 2004 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

It’s certainly been a busy few months since my last letter. The launch of my biography Malcolm Arnold: Rogue Genius was quite an experience, taking place at the Royal Festival Hall in London. Among the two hundred guests were four players from the London Philharmonic Orchestra, class of 1940! And also the clarinettist Nick Tschaikov, who played in very early performances of Arnold’s Three Shanties and the wonderful (and recently re-discovered) Wind Quintet back in 1942. The latter received its first London performance (sixty-two years late!) by a wonderful pupil of mine, Charlotte Swift, and some friends during the launch. In the following concert by the LPO, Julian Bliss gave a masterly performance of Malcolm’s Second Concerto. The spirit of Benny Goodman was clearly with us, although sadly Malcolm himself wasn’t, as he is getting very frail. However I did pay him a visit on his 83rd birthday last week and found him alert and cheerful.

A couple of weeks earlier I was in Berlin to celebrate another birthday; that of the Clarinet, which is 300! Karl Leister and the Musikinstrumenten-Museum were not going to let the occasion go without an appropriate and full-scale celebration. The exhibition and symposium observing this important anniversary was given a wonderful launch on September 30th. My own part in this tremendous event actually began about a year ago. Karl rang me one morning and asked whether I would be willing to write a short piece for the occasion. Needless to say I was honoured to do so. But my short Happy Birthday Clarinet was to have a dual purpose, as the patron of the festival, Alan Hacker, also celebrated his birthday the same day. 

So, a year or so later, I found myself among many distinguished guests assembling in the lower floor of the Museum with its fabulous collection of decorated eighteenth-century harpsichords standing guard over cabinets of historical instruments. The Faszination Klarinette exhibition spans two floors – the lower floor is home to displays of the chalumeau family and the earliest extant examples of the clarinet itself. (There used to be more, but many of these went up in smoke during World War Two.) Here are the few surviving Denner instruments – brought from all around the world, and lovingly cared for. Something that particularly caught my attention was a large chunk of an African Blackwood tree – I’d never seen a clarinet in quite that early stage of evolution before! On the first floor, displays bring us through the nineteenth and into the twentieth century. I was particularly excited to see two examples by Ottensteiner, the maker of Richard Mühlfeld’s instruments. There are also cabinets containing some of the more exotic, and now sadly extinct members of the clarinet family – how disappointing that some of these extraordinary looking devices are no longer entertaining audiences. There is Theodor Lotz’s wonderfully angular Bassetthorn in F; Franz Kruspe’s Bathyphon, looking like something midway between a clarinet and a contra-bassoon; and perhaps most extraordinary of all, Fritz Schüller’s Viertelton-Doppelklarinette – two clarinets in one, with an absolutely awe-inspiring array of complex key-work that makes a standard Boehm system instrument look positively primitive.
The launch ceremony began with Alan Hacker playing two Marches by Telemann on a copy of a Jacob Denner instrument. There were moments when it clearly sounded like the mock-trumpet it was probably meant to. Following this, we heard two more Marches, now on a copy of a Zencker. Alan chose to play them using the high tessitura and the vocal qualities of the instrument were now much more to the fore. A number of speeches followed though frustratingly, my German was not really up to it. Alan himself gave a very engaging and personal account (in English!) of the instrument’s history and then the four members of the clarinet section of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra took up their position on the platform to play my contribution. It is really a set of variations on Happy Birthday and (although it’s an old joke) I’ve tried to metamorphose snippets of all the most well-known clarinet melodies – from Weber to Finzi, Brahms to Stravinsky, by way of Mozart, Hindemith, Poulenc and many others into the famous birthday ode. Of course they played it very well, the audience seemed pleased, and Alan particularly so – it was a complete surprise to him!
More speeches followed and the launch was rounded off by some fantastic jazz. Dan Levinson and his trio played in the style of Benny Goodman and the audience, made up mostly of international clarinet players, applauded delightedly. The exhibition was then officially opened by the Museum’s director, Professor Dr. Conny Restle and the Chief Curator, Heike Fricke and the assembled gathering began enthusiastically investigating the exhibits. There is also a superb accompanying catalogue, beautifully produced. Drinks then followed and there were many wonderful people to chat to. I was particularly excited to meet Dieter Klöcke – a player and teacher for whom I have long had a great regard. The symposium went on for three days and included talks by distinguished members of the clarinet fraternity and concerts given by world-renowned artists in works from Mozart to Stockhausen. It was a wonderfully memorable event. The exhibition itself remains open until the end of February and, if you find yourself anywhere near Europe, it is highly recommended.

More clarinet concertos

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 2004 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

Following hot on the heels of Ian Scott’s recording of British Clarinet Concertos comes a further, and dazzling, compilation of (mostly re-issued) concertos. A five-disc set, it includes those of Stanford, Finzi and both the Arnold concertos (played by Emma Johnson) as well as the Horowitz Concertante (played by Ian Scott). Various concertos for flute, oboe and bassoon complete this fascinating compilation. Altogether there are eighteen works included; the set is called My England and is on the Resonance label – CDRSB 505. Anyone wishing to acquaint themselves with some delightful music from Lambert to Fogg, Vaughan Williams to Blake and Rawsthorne to Gunning will find this quite a treasure trove. 

I am reminded of a story told to me by my clarinet teacher, John Davies, of a clarinet concerto that was so nearly written – and would surely have become a very important work – but in the event, was to remain just an enthusiastic young player’s dream. In the early 1960s, John paid Michael Tippett a visit at his home in deepest Wiltshire. He had been granted an audience with the great man and his mission was to persuade the composer to write him a concerto. Iain Hamilton had done so some years earlier, and Alexander Goehr and Leopold Spinner – among others – had also written works for John. John was somewhat taken aback at the explicitness of the more suggestive sculptures and carvings adorning the entrance hall but was soon cheerfully received by Tippett, reclining on a favourite chaise longue. He didn’t dismiss the idea – as a twenty-three year old he had written a Concerto for flute, oboe, horn and strings and in 1953 came his wonderful Piano Concerto, but pressure of work was always going to militate against a new concerto and inevitably it never materialized. What a misfortune for the repertoire! 

A week or two ago I popped into the Selmer Clarinet Summer School, which was being held at Stowe – the beautiful eighteenth-century mansion where I used to teach. I arrived as Colin Lawson was giving a masterclass. Readers may well know that Colin has recently been appointed the next Director of the Royal College of Music in London – yet another position of great importance filled by a wind player (the oboist George Caird and the trumpeter John Wallace are respectively Principals of the Birmingham Conservatoire and the Royal Scottish Academy of Music). Colin was talking, with his deep knowledge and authority, on the interpretation of the slow movement of the Mozart Concerto. On returning home I listened to all my (many) recordings and re-read David Etheridge’s fascinating book ‘Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto: The Clarinetist’s View’. However it seems to me that Mozart’s magical music will forever cause musical thinkers to search for the most exquisite shaping and meaning, for it will never reveal its ultimate secrets. Players will always be seeking the perfect performance, and this is part of the reason for its enduring attraction. 

Readers will be aware that rarely will one of my ‘letters’ fail to mention Sir Malcolm Arnold! By the time you read this article, my new biography co-written with Anthony Meredith, entitled Malcolm Arnold: Rogue Genius will be published. The book’s launch is to be celebrated by an all-Arnold concert at the Royal Festival Hall, with Julian Bliss playing the Second Concerto. I have written a new cadenza and feel very humbled to join the list of previous cadenza-writers for this wonderful work! Benny Goodman’s own is short but full of the kind of rapid, jazz-inspired shapes only he could produce. There are distinguished cadenzas by Christopher Palmer (for Thea King’s powerful recording), Richard Rodney Bennett (for Michael Collins’ trenchant reading), and Emma Johnson has written her own. In working on the cadenza, I wanted to demonstrate the very strong link between the melodic material of the first and last movements, by a process of the one transforming itself into the other. Malcolm’s compositional thinking is always economical and very tightly argued – I hope this is also borne out by this new cadenza. 

Finally on the topic of Arnold – I recently made an arrangement, for Clarinet Choir, of his Overture for Wind Octet. It was given its first performance in Washington DC a few weeks ago by a visiting British Clarinet Choir (led by John Mackenzie) and, judging by the applause I hear on the recording, went down very well!

British Clarinet Concertos

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 March 2004 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

A splendid new CD of ‘British Clarinet Concertos’ has just been issued by Sanctuary Classics, played by the excellent Ian Scott, principal of the Royal Ballet Sinfonia. It includes works by Alan Paul, Jo Horovitz, Guy Woolfenden, Geoffrey Bush, Malcolm Macdonald, Adrian Cruft and Alan Ridout. I suspect many of these works will be new to quite a number of clarinettists. We all know the Finzi concerto (which incidentally has become one of the most requested works on the popular radio station Classic FM) and Malcolm Arnold’s wonderful two concertos (more about the Benny-Goodman-inspired No. 2 later!). Interestingly, in 1941 Benny Goodman commissioned a concerto from Benjamin Britten, who was living in New York during the war. As he was returning to the UK, his manuscripts were impounded by customs who thought they contained secret codes. Presumably, by the time they were retuned to him later the following year he was busy with other projects as he never completed the work. The fascinating first movement remains though, and is recorded by Thea King. 

The Stanford concerto is fairly well-known; a noble work written in the best tradition of early twentieth-century Europe. Arnold Cooke’s concerto deserves more attention. Like all his music for clarinet (the Sonata, the three Songs of Innocence and the Trio for example), it is highly characteristic, tuneful (in the tradition of his teacher Paul Hindemith) and well worth study. The final movement is a gem. There are a number of concertos by composers who have straddled the serious and (what we now seem to call) ‘media’ music genres. A large-scale concerto by Howard Blake (written for Thea King) is particularly notable. Though Blake is best known for his delightful music for the legendary Raymond Briggs cartoon, ‘The Snowman’, his concert music is very important. Jim Parker, who writes delightfully for the British television programme ‘Midsommer Murders’ (featuring extensive clarinet solos) has written an attractive concerto and there is a particularly impressive work by Graham Fitkin, written for David Campbell. 

Of the works on this new CD I would like to dwell on two in particular. Alan Ridout, who, like Malcolm Arnold, was also a pupil of Gordon Jacob, wrote a vast quantity of music, with five symphonies and many concertos among his output. His ‘Concertino for clarinet’ is very short (lasting a little over five minutes) but for intermediate students and a string orchestra of modest achievement it’s a real winner. Alan was sitting at his desk about to begin work on the last movement and waiting for some inspiration, when he heard a wood pigeon cooing outside in his garden. The bird’s five-eight rhythmic pattern therefore forms the basis of the whole movement. 

Guy Woolfenden was director of music at the Royal Shakespeare Company at Stratford-upon-Avon for many years. His music, as you would expect, is skilfully written, colourful and immediate. His clarinet concerto was written in 1985 to celebrate Jack Brymer’s seventieth birthday, and Jack gave the first performance in Warwick that same year. It is a moving work full of glorious melodic writing. Let’s try to encourage players to have a look at these fine works and perhaps even slip one into a programme. Audiences are sure to enjoy them.

To return to Malcolm Arnold’s Second Concerto … Written for Benny Goodman, it is a work that encompasses both the dark and light. The first movement shows the composer at his darkest, having attempted suicide just months before completing the work, but the gorgeous melody of the slow movement began life as part of Malcolm’s score for the film The Sound Barrier. And who can fail to be drawn in to the unashamedly high spirits of the ‘Pre-Goodman Rag’ finale.

Old and new

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 December 2003 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

At the time of writing, I am currently researching two important clarinet composers from either end of the instrument’s history. About ten years ago I produced an edition of Lefevre’s first five sonatas, published by Oxford University Press, which involved a very enjoyable trip to the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris where the manuscripts are held. It’s taken some time, but finally the other seven sonatas are about to join their ‘relatives’ in two further volumes. The middle sonatas are a delight – very tuneful and audience-friendly, and the works are useful both for professional players and good students. We clarinettists need more sonatas to augment our relatively small repertoire of works from the earlier period! Lefevre called these sonatas ‘progressive’ and indeed they live up to that description. The final three get blacker and blacker with more and more notes per square centimetre! But like their predecessors (and remembering of course, that Lefevre himself was a master player and very distinguished teacher of his time) they fit very happily under the fingers. All being well these two new volumes should be released later in 2004. 

Readers will be already familiar with the second composer, Sir Malcolm Arnold; it’s both amazing and exciting that we’re still finding unpublished manuscripts of his, and we’re not finished yet! I recently discovered that Arnold wrote some unaccompanied jazz pieces for clarinet in 1938, although currently these are still lost. I visited him a few weeks ago on his 82nd birthday and found him as perky as ever, having recovered from a recent bout of pneumonia. I have been preparing two of his early works for publication that both include the clarinet – and what gems they are! The first is in fact his very earliest work for wind instruments. The Suite Bourgeoise (mentioned in my previous letter) was written between June 10th and 21st 1940 and has only now, over sixty years later, been published for the first time. It was written for student friends at the Royal College of Music where Malcolm was studying at the time, and was lost for many years, but re-surfaced in 1996. Ruth Arnold, Malcolm’s elder sister, created the title page to the original manuscript and it is to her that we owe the slightly unusual spelling! Originally for flute, oboe and piano, I have also included an alternative clarinet part. It is music of huge charm and wit and reveals Arnold’s interest in a number of contemporary styles and personalities – within the five movements we find popular and dance music, allusions to Les Six and more than a hint of Constant Lambert, whom Arnold admired ‘more than any man in the world’.

The most serious of the five movements, the ‘Prelude’, is an early indication of Arnold’s love for contrapuntal textures – a mode of writing that he was to make much use of in many of his later works. The ‘Tango’ is dedicated to ‘Elaine’ – a friend of Arnold’s who often visited him at his home in Northampton and whom Malcolm remembers as ‘speaking often on one note’. He also suggests, rather unkindly perhaps, that she could only sing one note – F sharp! This is portrayed in the music by the repeated note patterns. At the time of writing the Suite Bourgeoise, Arnold was having composition lessons with Gordon Jacob – a man for whom he had enormous respect. He had, in a typically scurrilous gesture, originally given the next movement a very rude title. (Readers will have to see the publication to find out what it was!) But he thought better of it before showing the music to his teacher! The word is heavily crossed out and replaced by ‘Censored’ to which Arnold appends the more acceptable, but prosaic ‘Dance’. 
The ‘Ballad’ demonstrates the composer’s wonderful gift for melody: it is quite a surprise that this glorious tune didn’t find itself into one of his many films, as material from the next movement did. Devotees of the ‘St Trinian’s’ films will certainly recognise similar music to that of the delightful ‘Valse’, which concludes the suite. It is dedicated to ‘Ugo’, the conductor Hugo Rignold. Before becoming involved with more ‘serious’ music, Rignold was a jazz violinist in the famous Kit-Cat Band. Arnold was also fascinated by the fact that Rignold was an amateur motor-racing enthusiast. This slightly outrageous mix of interests (for a ‘classical’ musician) would have made him an ideal role-model for the somewhat mischievous young composer! 

The second work in preparation is a Grand Fantasia. This was originally written for the composer himself to play along with Richard Adeney (the great flute player and dedicatee of most of his flute works) and a pianist friend (Betty Matthews). However it is well suited for the combination of flute, clarinet and piano, and Arnold was quick to agree to the arrangement. This piece dates from earlier than the Suite Bourgeoise, probably 1938, and was clearly written to give the young virtuosi some fun. It begins with a wonderful nineteenth-century pastiche, reminiscent of all those flamboyant opera fantasies, and then is followed by a jazz waltz, a czardas, a rock-and-roll number and other witty flights of the imagination. And there’s a little of the later Malcolm Arnold in this piece too – altogether it makes for a brilliant and witty concert item!
I’m off for some Christmas pudding now (though the sun will probably be shining when this comes to print!). So, may I wish readers, rather belatedly, a merry Christmas and happy New Year!

 

Summer, songs and a glass of champagne

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.