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Frustrated Musician
Mr Cunliffe, my violin teacher, arranged for me to attend radio concerts being given by the BBC Northern Orchestra in their first-floor studio in the Milton Hall, Deansgate, Manchester. The doormen, members of the orchestra, and the announcers soon got used to me and eventually they let me into the studio unescorted – a rare privilege. Frequently I was an audience of one and then I sat in a straight back chair immediately behind the announcer who sat at a small table a few feet behind the Conductor facing the orchestra. The announcer was often Roger Moffatt, who had only just started what was to become a distinguished career with the BBC. These were not public concerts and, because they were invariably broadcast live, I had to remain absolutely silent with no coughs, no squeaking chair, and certainly no applause until after the red light on the announcer's table had gone out.
It amazed me that many of the concerts were being broadcast live on the BBC General Overseas Service and I used to imagine that listeners in far-flung parts of the globe could hear my breathing in the quieter passages of music. Charles Groves, later Sir Charles, slim and clean-shaven in those days, was the resident conductor of the orchestra but he was always rather aloof and never spoke to me – somehow I found that rather fitting for such a well-known maestro. Reginald Stead was the Leader of the orchestra and he often had a few words to say to me after the studio had gone off the air. I felt very privileged and I enjoyed those free concerts immensely.
One day, before the red light came on, Charles Groves, announced that they were to play the Minuet and Trio of Haydn's 95th Symphony without the first time repeats. Afterwards I asked Reginald Stead what was meant by that. He took the time to show me his score and explain to me about the conventional repeats in classical minuets and trios.
'We were rather short of time this morning,' he said, 'and so we had to omit the first time repeats otherwise we would have been faded out at the end of the concert. Nothing is allowed to keep the news waiting.' There was always something new for me to learn and I lapped it all up.
I checked recently from several different CDs and found that leaving out the first time repeats of the that minuet would have saved only about 90 seconds, therefore that says something about the BBC's insistence on timing accuracy, to say nothing of Sir Charles' precise tempi, and it left Roger Moffatt with no scope for stumbles over any of his announcements.
Mr ‘Tink’ Taylor, my first Music Master at Salford Grammar School, retired on 26 July 1951 and I was quite distraught. He gave his final Friday morning recital (Chopin’s Revolutionary Etude) in front of the entire school and there were tears in his eyes at the end – and probably in mine. He had been so good to me and so encouraging that I could not imagine Taylor’s replacement could be as good as he was. But I was wrong!
Mr Taylor’s replacement was a much younger man, Dr Llifon Hughes Jones. He had been a war-time Lancaster pilot and had studied under Ralph Vaughan Williams immediately after the war; Dr Jones hardly ever stopped talking about him! He instilled in me a lifelong interest in RVW’s music. In those days gramophone records, 78s, were very few and far between and so Dr Jones did most of his teaching ‘at the piano’.
As my lessons with Mr Cunliffe continued into a second year, I gradually and reluctantly came to accept that I would never reach professional standard as a violinist. If the truth be known, I was rather lazy at practising what I was supposed to practise and I think Mr Cunliffe became quite frustrated with me. I was far more interested in music history, theory and composition, and I started concentrating all my efforts on those. Recognising this, Dr Jones eventually persuaded my parents that I really did need a piano at home. However, there was no question of formal piano lessons because there was no more money, so I was self taught again. I never became a decent pianist but having a piano at home helped me considerably with harmony and counterpoint lessons and general music theory.
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These were not public concerts and, because they were invariably broadcast live, I had to remain absolutely silent with no coughs, no squeaking chair, and certainly no applause until after the red light had gone out