Recollections, From Boult to Björling - My Life In Music (so far!)

Eight years of age, sitting on the edge of my bed, in awe of the music coming out of the little Wharfedale speakers Dad had set up in my bedroom. I’d heard plenty of music being played in the house, but I will never forget my sense of awe at the sound of a full orchestra filling my room - a Marble Arch pressing of The Planets, conducted by Adrian Boult. I now know it to be the recording he made for Nixa-Westminster in 1956 with the London Philharmonic, and although I’ve enjoyed many recordings of this music since it is this one that sticks in my mind. It’s a very forthright interpretation full of drama, typical of Boult. I played it many times, alongside a Saga LP of Dvořák's 'New World' Symphony and plenty of Queen, Abba etc.

CDs became part of my life a little later, and I was excited at being able to listen to complete works without interruption. One of my first was of Claudio Arrau playing the Grieg and Schumann piano concertos, with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and Christoph von Dohnányi. I fell in love with Arrau’s dynamic range and fluid technique; little did I know that I would one day play the Grieg myself.

Thanks to Grandad’s 78s of singers, including Tito Schipa and Beniamino Gigli, I was already familiar with well-known arias; when I listen to transfers of those recordings, I can almost smell the hessian flooring of his listening space, and I find myself instinctively following the vocal line with my hand just as he did. It was inevitable I would find my way to complete operas. A Chandos recording of Rigoletto, sung in English and conducted by Mark Elder, got me hooked, and my favourite operas now range from Die Zauberflöte to Bluebeard’s Castle.

Fast-forward to 1997, the year I began my studies at Lancaster University. Professor Deborah Mawer took us on a journey from Debussy’s Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune to exploring the whole Parisian music scene from the Exposition of 1889 to Les Six, Stravinsky and Diaghilev in the 1920s. She was especially passionate about Milhaud, and this is when I heard La création du monde for the first time. I love the nostalgic atmosphere of the music, imbued with the decadence of the time and the seamless blending of classical and jazz elements. Yan Pascal Tortelier’s BBC Philharmonic recording has been a mainstay of my listening since.

I’ve never lost the sense of wonder at being able to experience a performance that took place anywhere in the world as long as 120 years ago, and of all the many big box sets I own, Great Moments at Carnegie Hall is especially rewarding. The lieder recital by Jussi Björling is one of the standouts. The golden tone and exquisite phrasing evident in his famous recording of The Pearl Fishers duet with Robert Merrill is present throughout, and I feel privileged to be able to listen in on that moment in time.

Of course, music isn’t only about the past: it’s a living and breathing art. Thomas Adès’s early recordings of his music, especially Arcadiana and Asyla, drew me into a new world, and I’ve since followed him into all sorts of musical landscapes, including In Seven Days. Adès’s writing for the tried-and-tested combination of piano and orchestra is startling, though as a pianist I’m not quite brave enough to look at the score! 

James MacMillan is another contemporary composer I follow intently. Mum played viola in the Leicestershire Schools Symphony Orchestra in the 60s, and I love MacMillan’s bravery in adding to the viola concerto repertoire. Also, his beautiful choral writing, which strikes right at the emotional heart of my own faith. The Coro recording of his Stabat Mater involves one of my other loves in the form of The Sixteen, a group of skilfully blended voices that I’ve heard live in the terrific acoustic of Derby Cathedral several times.

Music is the beating heart of my life. It’s entangled with recollections of people and places, and every piece of music or performance I listen to is like C.S. Lewis’s wardrobe, opening up a whole new Narnia to explore.

If you have an interesting tale behind a much-loved recording (ideally one that's still available!), we would love you to share it with us in between 300-500 words; please send your submissions to letters@prestomusic.com. Stories that are selected will receive a £30 voucher.