Nash, Browne and 303 fingerings

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 2007 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

The Nash Ensemble will be well known to musicians and music lovers all over the world. They are, and have been for many years, one of the greatest chamber ensembles. You will therefore be delighted to learn that their newest CD (Hyperion, CDA67590) features the wonderful Clarinet Quintet by the English composer, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, who was born in London in 1875. Coleridge-Taylor studied at the Royal College of Music where he was a pupil of Charles Stanford and a friend of fellow student and composer William Yeates Hurlstone (of Four Characteristic Pieces fame). He couldn’t resist his teacher’s challenge that ‘no one could write a clarinet quintet without displaying some Brahmsian influence’. Indeed, had Stanford set himself the same challenge when writing his own clarinet sonata he would have failed miserably! It pays some considerable obeisance to Brahms. But not only did Coleridge-Taylor meet the challenge, he also wrote a work of scintillating brilliance. Coleridge-Taylor himself openly admitted that his favourite composer was Dvorak and this is indeed the clarinet quintet that Dvorak never wrote (or at least, if he did, it has not yet been found!). When presented to Stanford, the master exclaimed, ‘You’ve done it, me boy!’ It’s a long work – just a few seconds short of thirty minutes – skilfully crafted and full of glorious melody and sparkling rhythms. Sadly, like Hurlstone, Coleridge-Taylor died young, at the age of thirty-seven; what might he have achieved had he lived longer? On this recording, Richard Hosford plays the work beautifully.

Talking of Brahms, real aficionados may know of a short book about the Symphonies written in 1933 by Dr Philip Browne. Readers may remember my mentioning a delightful little work, famously recorded by Jack Thurston, and called (somewhat quaintly) A Truro Maggot. The composer was the same Philip Browne who, I was delighted to discover, was the first Director of Music at Stowe School where I taught and was Head of Wind and Brass for a number of years. I well remember working on A Truro Maggot with Julian Bliss (who loved the title) when he came for his lessons at Stowe. I had no idea of the connection at that time. And a second coincidence: a couple of weeks ago I had lunch with an old professor of mine from the Royal Academy of Music, who very kindly sent me home with his personal copy of ‘the Maggot’ signed by the composer. Being the proud possessor of a second and autographed copy I rummaged through my CD collection and found the recording. Listening to it, and following the score, I noticed that curiously the pianist Myers (Bill) Foggin misses out most of the left-hand notes! So if anyone out there wants to record this witty little gem (with all the left hand notes intact) it would be, in one sense, a world premiere!

On a final note, I wonder whether readers know of what has become something of a clarinet classic – the little blue book entitled 303 Clarinet Fingerings (and 276 trills) by Alan Sim. There are no end of surprises and fascinating suggestions for every note on the instrument up to the G above altissimo G. How many fingerings do you know for altissimo G? Including trill fingerings, Alan has thirty-four! There are fifteen fingerings for C above top C, and twenty for top C. The book also includes any amount of helpful and insightful advice on fingering, plus a number of witty limericks to lighten the way. There was a possibility that this invaluable little book may have gone out of print, but after some discussion with Alan I am delighted to report that Queen’s Temple Publications will be taking over publication from 2008. Like many teachers, I always train my pupils to think about and explore fingering creatively. Many players learn their fingerings from a first tutor and for ever after consider these to be the correct and only ones possible. Alan certainly dispels that line of thinking instantly! It is a little gem of a book that ought to be in every clarinettist’s pocket (it would fit too!)

A tribute to Thea King

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 2007 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

In preparing for my previous ‘Letter’, little did I realise that my conversation with Thea King would be the last I would ever have. She sounded a little tired and indeed mentioned that she might be going into hospital, but as we chatted about Jack Thurston and Richard Rodney Bennett, she was one hundred percent on the ball and her spirits seemed high. She died less than two weeks later. The memorial evening at the Royal College of Music was a moving but life-enhancing affair. Many British clarinettists were there, as well as friends from other branches of the music profession who had known and loved Thea. We were reminded of the breadth of her interests: cows, the countryside and slightly risqué poetry; much written by herself! There were affecting speeches by Colin Lawson and Neil Black, oboist and fellow English Chamber Orchestra player. Her own choice of music for the occasion included a number of songs by Schubert and Schumann, and we also heard part of her recording of the terrific but rarely played Benjamin Frankel Quintet. And so we were reminded of her continued championing of clarinet works by a broad range of British composers. Her recordings are just part of the very special legacy this great musician has left.

Remaining with that wonderful generation for a moment, I was delighted that one of my young pupils, Ben Westlake (aged 14) recently had a lesson with the great Gervase de Peyer (aged 81!). Gervase was on sparkling form and a few days later did us the honour of attending Ben’s performance of the Weber Concertino at London’s Cadogan Hall with the Southbank Sinfonia. My teacher and mentor Professor John Davies also came along and it was great to see the two old friends reunited.

I briefly mentioned the new Naxos East Winds CD of Malcolm Arnold Wind Music in my last letter. I hope readers will have managed to purchase a copy by now. It is a treasure trove of goodies, with many first recordings: the wonderful Quintet Op. 2 and the Grand Fantasia for flute, clarinet and piano, for example. I’m delighted (but not surprised) that the Wind Quintet is already becoming a ‘standard’ in the repertoire. And speaking of Malcolm, the Second Arnold Festival is almost upon us. This year the festival includes a whole recital devoted to the composer’s wind chamber music and young Ben (mentioned above) will be playing the clarinet part in that gorgeous early song for voice, clarinet and piano Beauty haunts the woods (words by Ruth Arnold) in a talk about Ruth – Malcolm’s elder sister – who was a poet and great inspiration to the young composer. 

I’d also like to mention another new CD (Camerata CMCD-28103), of Karl Leister playing seven of Lefevre’s lovely Sonatas. Karl is using the edition prepared by myself and John Davies (the first five published by Oxford University Press, and No.s 6 and 9 – really quite a large-scale work – by Ricordi). John and I went out to the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris to research the manuscripts for this edition a couple of years ago and I well remember the helpfulness of the French librarians. Karl, as you would imagine, plays the sonatas beautifully; the purity of his sound is ideal in projecting the deeply lyrical nature of the clarinet writing. I do most strongly recommend this disc.

Three for two

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 June 2007 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

We clarinet teachers often play duets with our pupils. Among the ever-increasing duet repertoire, we all know the three Crusell duets, those of Mozart and Poulenc and all those grandiose, almost symphonic works that appear towards the end of the similarly grandiose and symphonic Klosé tutor. But I’d like to draw readers’ attention to three interesting duets by British composers that may well be less familiar. The first is by Alan Frank – the other half of the Thurston and Frank Tutor. Frank was Head of Music at Oxford University Press for many years and was a clarinettist himself. I had the great pleasure of meeting Alan a few years before he died. He was a delightful, lively and highly articulate musician, editor and writer. We met at a colourful Chinese Restaurant in London and enjoyed a very engrossing conversation about the composer William Walton (who he had edited), Phyllis Tate (who he had married) and Frederick Thurston (his teacher). The duet in question is called simply Suite for Two Clarinets, which was somewhat of a landmark work. Aside from Poulenc, composers hadn’t taken up the clarinet duet as a viable genre. This Suite changed that, and the number of works for teaching, amateur and professional use thereafter is of course very significant. It was composed in 1934, recorded in 1936 and dedicated to Thurston and Ralph Clarke who sat next to each other in the BBC Symphony Orchestra for many years. It is highly melodic, humorous and, in places, quite jazzy. An entertaining and very useful piece.

In the 1960s, Thea King and Stephen Trier both played in the Vesuvius Ensemble, a chamber group that was originally set up with the specific purpose of giving performances of Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire. The ensemble was in residence at the famous Dartington Summer School in the summer of 1967. Also teaching on the course was the young composer Richard Rodney Bennett. Thea woke up one morning and discovered some sheets of manuscript paper on the floor, which someone had slid underneath her bedroom door. That someone was Richard Rodney Bennett, who had composed a delightful four-movement work for her, literally overnight! This original version of Crosstalk was in fact written for two basset horns but published later in a more practical version for two clarinets. Thea, who recorded the work (in its first incarnation) with fellow basset horn player Georgina Dobrée, is quite adamant that the piece loses something in translation, but nevertheless we still have this extremely effective and highly skilfully written work readily available. If you don’t know it, don’t delay in purchasing a copy!

The third duet is by Sir Malcolm Arnold. In the late seventies Malcolm had a severe mental breakdown and it seemed that he might never compose again. After two and half years in a mental hospital things looked bleak. However he was nursed back to health by his devoted carer Anthony Day who encouraged Malcolm to begin composing again. Anthony was well rewarded: all sorts of orchestral, chamber and instrumental works date from this final period of Malcolm’s compositional life. In 1986 Malcolm wrote his last symphony (his ninth) and, two years later (in July 1988) he produced a very quirky and arcane little Divertimento for Two Clarinets. I asked Malcolm many times if he wrote it for anyone in particular, but it would seem that he simply wrote it because he wanted to. There are many similarities between the six movements of the Divertimento and the introspective Mahler-inspired 9th Symphony. Both combine a certain wit and lyrical melody with moments of darker and almost other-worldly writing. It’s a fascinating little piece and well worth exploration. With a little explanation, audiences find it both intriguing and compelling. The chamber ensemble East Winds has just brought out a wonderful new all-Arnold wind music CD (on the Naxos label) that includes the Divertimento as well as the world premiere recording of the Wind Quintet Op.2. 

Happy duetting!

Karl Leister pays a visit: diary of a memorable weekend

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 2007 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

I picked up the eminent clarinettist Karl Leister from Luton Airport very late on Friday night. It was cold and windy and, as expected, the flight was delayed. We arrived home well after midnight, but Karl was full of life and determined to chat well into the small hours. We spoke of practice – eight to ten hours a day were no stranger to the young Karl. (I’d never topped about four!) Karl also showed me the artwork for his latest CD: a set of seven of Lefèvre’s delightful sonatas (edited by myself and John Davies) which should be appearing in the next few months on the Camerata label. And we spoke about John Davies, whose forthcoming birthday had really inspired this visit. (John had often invited Karl to give masterclasses when he was senior clarinet professor at the Royal Academy of Music, and they had become great friends.) 

On Saturday, four of my pupils came to work with Karl. A lifetime of extraordinary musical experience has made him one of the greatest of masterclass leaders. I’m sure we’ve all sat through many such events. Sometimes the ‘master’ has interesting points to make, sometimes not. Sometimes the master can relate to the students, sometimes not. Sometimes the master likes simply to show off or tell stories – neither of which are of much help to the students, entertaining though this might be. But Karl is a true master of the art. No information is surplus to requirements. He is helpful, supportive, inspirational, and very much to the point. There is no doubt he has thought hard and deeply about music, repertoire and the art of clarinet playing. We had Debussy and Spohr, Mozart and Weber: all solid stuff, with Karl suggesting a new way forward for some phrase, or a particularly apt metaphor to provide deep insight into some colour or character. Karl’s views on technique too are very creative and we discussed many fascinating fingerings and styles of articulation. An occasional demonstration in his inimitable style helped underpin a point. These were never laboured or over-done. Ben, the youngest of my pupils, played the third movement of the Reger A Flat Sonata. This is a real favourite of mine (and perhaps the sonata I’ve performed most often). Karl was particularly excited about this. Like Karl, I’ve never understood why people don’t play the Reger Sonatas more often. Yes they do need a good pianist, but they are by no means turgid and heavy-going – the unhappy reputation they seem to have acquired. 

In the evening we met up with a conductor friend of mine and went out for a meal and to chat, predominantly, about Karajan. All pupils having now left, Karl indulged himself in a night of fascinating story-telling about his many years with the Berlin Philharmonic, working with great conductors (their foibles and idiosyncrasies) and his exceptional experience of music-making at the highest levels. 

Karl wanted something special to play for John’s birthday on Monday so on Sunday I was up at the crack of dawn composing a celebratory duet! As well as my new duet, Karl decided he’d like to play a couple of pieces with piano. So I introduced him to my new collection of repertoire pieces just published by Oxford University Press – Music Through Time Book 4; all pieces, as yet, unperformed! First of all we decided on an arrangement I’d made of the lovely Mendelssohn Song Without Words Op. 67 No.2. 

And so to the second choice: to my considerable amazement, Karl chose a work of mine from this collection – perhaps my most frivolous piece yet: Fantastical Micro-variations on a theme by Mozart (the theme in question being the first subject of the Clarinet Concerto). In this outrageous piece, Mozart’s wonderful tune is paraded somewhat roguishly and irreverently through a number of shocking disguises – as a can-can, a tango, a beguine, a celestial ‘Star Trek’-like variation … the list goes on. It caught Karl’s sense of humour and I was very pleased to find that he, of all people, was happy at this seeming lack of respect for the great master! 

On the Monday we lunched with John Davies and his family in Kew before rehearsing for our short performance – a duet and two accompanied pieces: all world premieres! I felt reasonably secure in the duet (particularly as I’d written it), but accompanying the great Leister (as very much a second-study pianist) gave me cause for concern. However, we performed to our select audience and all went well. John was delighted, and the following birthday meal (including Karl leading at least three choruses of ‘Happy Birthday’) made for a memorable weekend indeed!

A festival and a 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 December 2006 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

For clarinet players, the first Malcolm Arnold Festival last month was a veritable feast. Originally it was to have celebrated Malcolm’s 85th birthday but, as readers will know, sadly he died just weeks before the big day. So instead it became a celebration of his life. The BBC in its television tribute called Malcolm a ‘towering figure in twentieth century British music’. Indeed he was, and with his death a re-assessment has already begun. Arnold is now spoken of alongside Elgar, Britten and Walton, which is where he belongs. I last saw him only a week and a half before his death. He was in sprightly form and I felt confident he would see his way happily to his ninetieth birthday (his father lived to 92!). But a severe chest infection caused a very sudden and speedy demise.

So to the Festival, which began with wonderful performances by a young wind quintet of the Quintet Op. 2 and the Shanties. Each member also played their respective Fantasy for solo wind instrument, which were written for a 1966 competition commissioned by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Each is a gem, the clarinet Fantasy displaying all sorts of colourful gymnastics. In the vocal recital we had a performance of the early song, Beauty Haunts the Woods, for voice, clarinet and piano. A setting of words by Malcolm’s very talented elder sister Ruth, this poignant and evocative song found its way to the hearts of the large and very enthusiastic audience.

The evening saw the inaugural Malcolm Arnold Concerto Prize. Both clarinet concertos were performed alongside the two for Flute, for Oboe and French horn. What an evening it was! All six young soloists performed with terrific commitment. It was an unenviable task for the judges: Julian Lloyd Webber, Emma Johnson, David Mellor and Piers Burton Page. In the event Tim Orpen’s performance of the Second Clarinet Concerto was runner-up to Prema Kesselman’s performance of the Second Flute Concerto. I’ve no doubt we shall be hearing a lot more of Tim. His virtuosity was stunning and he had written his own extremely demanding and highly characteristic cadenza. Arnold would have loved it. 

The second day was full of concerts and talks – including a very moving one from Sir Malcolm’s daughter, Katherine. The Festival ended with a gala concert given by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra including the wonderful Eighth Symphony (which had been commissioned and first performed by the Albany Symphony Orchestra of New York). A second Festival is being planned for next October – more news soon.
Among the many new Arnold CDs being issued, I’d like to draw your attention to a delightful collection of his chamber music, much of it recorded for the first time. It includes the Sonatina and also the Scherzetto for clarinet and piano (written as part of the film score for the 1953 comedy You Know What Sailors Are and especially for Jack Thurston, who Malcolm always booked for his film sessions). It is played here scintillatingly by Linda Merrick. Beauty Haunts is also included. A must for fans! (Maestro Sound and Vision MSV0214CD.)

You’ll all know the name Arthur Benjamin in connection with the Jamaican Rumba and of course the wonderful Tombeau de Ravel. But you may not have known that he also wrote a clarinet quintet and, intriguingly, it has recently re-surfaced. It is a student work written while Benjamin was still a pupil of Charles Stanford at the Royal College of Music. He wrote it, together with a Scherzo in B minor (lost at present), for clarinettist and fellow student René Caprara, who played first clarinet in the college orchestra. Benjamin was delighted and enthused by Caprara’s sound, writing of its ‘singularity as unique as Caruso’. (Caprara was born into a circus family, gave up playing quite early in life and later became head of South African Radio.)

Benjamin’s quintet is cast in three movements: the first is dramatic with perhaps a hint of Elgar; the lyrical second movement is inspired texturally by the integrated approach of Reger rather than the more soloistic Brahms; and the third movement has a scherzo feel to it. My friend, the clarinettist Chris Swann is presently working at the score and hoping to prepare it for publication in the not-too-distant future. It will certainly be another fascinating addition to the repertoire.

 

A blissful day

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 2006 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

July 19th was always going to be a special day: it was the Queen’s 80th birthday Prom at the Royal Albert Hall, and there was to be something rather exceptional in the programme. But let’s go back a few hours. I had already been examining in London for a few days so, unusually, had my overnight bag with me. (‘Why mention the bag?’ you may be thinking … all will be revealed later, for it was to become something of a considerable nuisance.) Lunch was at the Royal College of Music where I met up with Director and eminent clarinettist, Colin Lawson. From Kensington I travelled across London to meet the concert pianist Marguerite Wolff for tea (I don’t do this kind of thing every day!). Marguerite was a great friend of Arthur Bliss and, among the many topics of conversation touched on, we discussed his contribution to the clarinet literature. The Two Nursery Rhymes (for voice, clarinet and piano) are delightful and his quintet is a real treasure. But my own favourite is the gorgeous Pastoral, written in 1916. Did you know that it is the second of two pieces? The first, a Rhapsody, remains unpublished. It was written for Kennard Bliss, Arthur’s brother, tragically killed in action in 1916 at the Battle of the Somme, but evidently a very gifted clarinettist and musician. And there is also an unpublished Trio for clarinet, cello and piano of 1907 (also written for Kennard and his other brother, Howard). Where are these tantalising works now? I shall be doing some detective work, so watch this space!

Time was getting on and I had to get back to Kensington, as another Bliss was waiting in the wings. I thought that I’d arrived at the Albert Hall in good time but the queues were very much longer than usual, due of course to the presence of the Queen – security was a good deal tighter than normal. And I had my overnight bag. Oh dear! By the time I had reached the entrance it was already getting perilously close to seven-thirty. A thorough search through the bag (pens, exam papers mixed up with my toothbrush) eventually revealed a small shaving mirror. ‘You can’t take that in I’m afraid sir,’ I was told (politely but firmly by the police officer). ‘Why ever not?’ ‘It’s glass – potentially a weapon.’ So I had to leave it under a shelf by the entrance. ‘It may still be here when you leave.’ (It wasn’t.)

Finally I managed to get in and find my seat, just by Christopher Finzi and his wife Hilary du Pré. The first work in the programme was a new commission for the occasion by Master of the Queen’s Music, Sir Peter Maxwell Davies. Appropriately grand, it was written for large orchestra, large choir and a set of trumpeters from the Household Cavalry dressed in their ceremonious best, tassels and breast-plates gleaming as they contributed their fanfares and alarums to the piece. But the next item held the most interest for me: Mozart’s concerto played by Julian Bliss on the basset clarinet. And what a splendid, magical performance it was – refined and understated, delicate and elegant. I sat there remembering the very first performance of Julian’s I had witnessed. At the age of four he bounced on to a small stage at the Watford Festival where I was adjudicating, and played Pierrot from the First Book of Clarinet Solos. It was amazing. ‘This lad will go far’, I had said to the assembled gathering. And indeed he had. There was a poise and an effortless confidence about both those performances. The audience at the Albert Hall was delighted and applauded warmly. Julian met the Queen afterwards. She knows her instruments; ‘That’s not your usual clarinet’, she remarked perceptively, and Julian explained the difference between his usual clarinet and the basset clarinet he was playing. We all went out for a meal later although the Queen, disappointingly, had made other arrangements. I arrived home in the small hours (minus the shaving mirror) and reflected on a remarkable (dare I say, blissful) day.

A host of octogenarians!

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 May 2006 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA. 

The audience at Gervase de Peyer’s eightieth birthday concert at the Wigmore Hall in London last month were treated to a staggering display of clarinet playing. It was a big programme to say the least – even the most energetic of players would have thought twice about taking on quite so much in one evening! But de Peyer gave us both Mendelssohn Concert Pieces; the Schumann Trio; Bartok’s Contrasts; a movement from the beautiful Bliss Quintet; two movements of the Schubert Octet; the Ponchielli duo and, perhaps the piece that de Peyer is best known for, the Horowitz Sonatina, written for him in 1981. Jo Horowitz was there too – also, coincidentally, celebrating his eightieth birthday this year. And what a performance it was. Gervase de Peyer still has all the verve, wit and imagination necessary to bring off a scintillating performance (I don’t think I’ve ever heard the final movement performed so fast!). Quite a cast of players were assembled for the event – William Waterhouse, another member of the original Melos Ensemble was playing, as well as Robin Ireland, son of Patrick Ireland, another original Melos player. It was a memorable evening.
On a more sombre note, Professor Sir Nicholas John Shackleton was very sadly only sixty-nine when he died in January. His memorial service, held at Great St Mary’s Church in Cambridge on 6th May, was well attended and demonstrated the warmth and high regard in which he was held by both the scientific and clarinet worlds. Professor Elderfield gave a tribute about his scientific achievements and William Waterhouse spoke of his musicianship and skill as a collector of clarinets – perhaps his greatest achievement. Evidently Nick’s wonderful collection will go to the Reid Concert Hall Museum of Instruments in Edinburgh, though a few of his playing instrument may go elsewhere, possibly to the Royal College of Music.At the memorial, the Clare College Choir sang beautifully and Alan Hacker led a clarinet quartet in some of Nick’s favourite music. I last met Nick at the clarinet’s 300th birthday celebrations in Berlin last year, where he impressed me deeply with his extraordinary knowledge of the instrument and its history. Happily he has left a rich cache of scholarly articles and chapters on his subject from which we all can benefit. 

As well as marking some important octogenarian birthdays this year, 2006 also sees the fiftieth anniversary of the death of the great English composer Gerald Finzi. A very readable and warm-hearted new biography entitled Gerald Finzi – his life and music by Diana McVeagh has just published, and is a must for all Finzi fans. I thought it would be nice to take a pupil, Charlotte Swift, to play the concerto to Kiffer Finzi (Gerald’s son) who still lives in the sprawling farm at Ashmansworth in the Newbury Hills, built by Gerald in 1939. Charlotte gave a lovely performance to a small audience in Gerald’s old study, her accompanist using the same piano that the composer had tried out his original ideas on some fifty-seven years ago. At the end of the performance we discussed Gerald’s feelings about the work, and in particular how he disliked an overly sentimental approach. ‘My father never liked those rallentandos to be anything more than just glanced at’, Kiffer commented. In her research, Diana McVeagh uncovered an interesting letter from Gerald to his friend (and fellow composer) Robin Milford in which he writes how pleased he was with the work, and that he’d ‘like to write another clarinet concerto, but saying something completely different’. Alas he never did. Charlotte gave another delightful performance, this time of the Mozart concerto, at the University Concert Hall in Cambridge last Friday and will be playing again at the Malcolm Arnold Festival in October – I do hope to see some of you there.

Another performance of the Mozart concerto will be given at the Royal Albert Hall at a very special Prom this year – at yet another eightieth birthday – this time it’s the Queen’s! And I am thrilled that it will be played by a very distinguished former pupil, Julian Bliss. The concert will begin with a new royal commission A Little Birthday Music from the Master of the Queen’s Music, Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, and will conclude with the Dvorak New World Symphony – evidently one of the Queen’s favourites. I hope I may see some of you there too!

Important birthdays

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 2006 in The Clarinet Journal, the official publication of the ICA.

You can hardly have missed the fact that this year is Mozart’s 250th birthday. The UK radio station Classic FM held a vote for the nation’s favourite Mozart work, with over a hundred thousand people taking part, and the clear winner was the Clarinet Concerto. As I write, I’m listening to Jack Brymer’s splendid recording with the LSO under Colin Davis. His warm and resonant ten-ten sound and his deep understanding of this music still make it a wonderful performance from which we can learn so much. Listening to this also reminds me of the last time I saw Jack. I was teaching young Julian Bliss and we went to see the grand old man in his home in Surrey. Julian (who must have been about eight at the time) gave a stunning performance of the Rossini Variations, and Jack was delighted! John Davies, a great friend of Jack’s, came too. The two of them reminisced happily. In the late 30s, John had his own jazz band (which played for afternoon tea dances) and he often employed Jack on alto saxophone. (Jack was teaching physical education at Willowfield School in Eastbourne at the time, well before his meteoric rise to fame!) Eight or so years on and Julian has now got many exciting engagements for the Mozart Concerto over the next few months. 
As mentioned in my previous letter, another important birthday this year is of course Malcolm Arnold’s eighty-fifth. I am organising a festival of his music at the Royal and Derngate in Northampton on October 21st and 22nd (Malcolm’s birthday weekend). It all begins with a wind chamber music recital which will include the Wind Quintet and all the solo Fantasies. The first day will end with The Malcolm Arnold Concerto Prize, featuring six of his wind concertos (including both for clarinet). The soloists are all from the six major conservatoires and these should prove to be outstanding performances. The judges will include Julian Lloyd Webber, Emma Johnson and David Mellor (a former politician and now regular broadcaster on Classic FM.) The second day ends with a gala concert given by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (and we’re hoping that one of the Royal family will be attending!). It will include Arnold’s Grand Grand Overture which he wrote for the very first Hoffnung Concert (also celebrating its own 50th birthday!). In the afternoon, Gerard’s widow Annetta Hoffnung will be speaking about the very special musical relationship that Malcolm and Gerard enjoyed. I do hope that some of you will come over for this wonderful event. 

Readers who know the name of Angela Fussell will be saddened to hear that she died a few days ago. Angela was a much respected chairman of the Clarinet and Saxophone Society of Great Britain for a good number of years, and a very thoughtful and highly regarded teacher. She taught at the Junior Department of the Royal College of Music, Colchester Institute and at the famous Eton College. I knew Angela well – we often worked together, most recently in the depths of North Yorkshire at a gathering of the Association of Woodwind Teachers, of which she was chairman. She will be much missed.

...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’.