A British newspaper, The Mail on Sunday, has listed the top ten opera albums “you must own”, as compiled by Eugene Costello.

Apart from #1, there’s no indication of the version or artists involved, so it’s a rather thin exercise. Nevertheless, for what it’s worth here is the list, with my own modifications:

1. The Ring Wagner. Version: Sir Georg Solti [Excellent choice]
2. La Traviata Verdi.
3. La Boheme Puccini.
4. Madame Butterfly Puccini.
5. Carmen Bizet.
6. Don Giovanni Mozart.
7. Peter Grimes Britten.
8. The Barber of Seville Rossini.
9. The Marriage of Figaro Mozart.
10. Rigoletto Verdi.

Well, there you have it, a goodly list. But I would leave out Peter Grimes and The Barber of Seville and promote Tosca by Puccini, and Fidelio by Beethoven.

But, above all, I would include my favourite opera of all: Wagner’s Parsival, which, in my view, tops anything in range, except maybe Puccini at his very best.

And I would also find room for Richard Strauss’s masterpiece, Der Rosenkavalier, which rather makes a mess of Costello’s efforts.

It’s all a matter of taste, of course. What’s your top ten operas?

Beware the man who hath no music in his soul…

Listening to Ralph Vaughan Williams Serenade to Music first performed in the 1930s as a tribute to the conductor Sir Henry Wood, I am again struck by RVW’s complete openness as a human being, and by his generosity and humanity of spirit - to listen to his music is to listen to the Earth turning.

It is also to listen to the man himself bestriding the landscape in giant musical steps as if some great static construction has freed itself and is on the move; just listen to his 3rd Symphony, the ‘Pastoral’ (1921) to hear what I mean. This symphony - which is as much an ironic statement about the First World War as it is a musical description of the English countryside - was a watershed in RVW’s career, marking him out as a composer who was going to plough a very distinctive and idiosyncratic furrow, and by so doing create a body of work that is always fresh to the ear and to the heart (a vital element), which renews itself and the listener each and every time.

Ralph (pronounced ‘Rafe’) Vaughan Williams, the second son and youngest child of Arthur Charles Vaughan Williams and Margaret Susan Wedgwood, was born on the 12th of October 1872 in Down Ambney, in Gloucestershire, where his father was vicar.

But with Arthur’s sudden death in 1875 Ralph’s mother moved the family back to her sister’s home at Leith Hill Place in Surrey, which her father, Josiah Wedgwood III, had bought in 1845, and where the old man continued to live until his death in 1880.

And as the name Wedgwood suggests Ralph Vaughan Williams came from good patrician stock. On his father’s side the family was of Welsh extraction, with John Williams, Ralph’s great-grandfather, born in Job’s Well in Carmarthenshire in 1757. And as James Day writes, in his 1961 biography of Vaughan Williams, John Williams, after leaving Carmarthen Grammar School went “…to Jesus College, Oxford, before becoming a scholar of Wadham in 1774 and a fellow in 1780. He enjoyed a distinguished career at the bar – notably as a special pleader – becoming a Serjeant-at-law in 1794 and a King’s Serjeant ten years later. As a legal scholar he was famous mainly for his edition of Blackstone’s Commentaries and the Reports and Pleadings in the Court of King’s Bench in the Reign of Charles II, [with] his highly valued, shrewd and lucid notes and references adding greatly to the appeal and value of the latter book in particular.”

John Williams had three sons and three daughters (one of whom, Mary, married the sixth Earl of Buckingham), with Edward Vaughan Williams, RVW’s grandfather (the addition of the name ‘Vaughan’ came from Edward’s mother), born in Bayswater in 1797. He was educated at Winchester and Westminster before winning a scholarship to Trinity College, Cambridge in 1816, where, like his father before him, he studied law. After establishing himself as a lawyer he brought out a new edition of his father’s book, Note’s on Saunders’ Reports, which he followed with a treatise called On the Law of Executors and Administration which was published in 1832 and reprinted many times during Edward’s lifetime. In the year he became a judge,1847, he was also knighted and went on to become one of the most respected judges on the circuit.

Sir Edward Vaughan Williams married in 1828, and like his father had three sons and three daughters, with the earlier mentioned, Arthur Charles Vaughan Williams (RVW’s father), born in London in 1834. He was educated at Westminster and later at Christ Church, Oxford, where he obtained his BA in 1857. With a house already full of lawyers Arthur decided on a career in the church, and in 1860 was ordained deacon and sent to Bemerton, near Salisbury, where he served as a curate before becoming a fully-fledged vicar in 1865. He married the aforementioned Margaret Susan Wedgwood (who was also a niece of Charles Darwin) in February 1868, which takes us right back to the birth of RVW in 1872 and perhaps a larger understanding of the origins of his music - music that can, I feel, clearly be traced back to the Age of Enlightenment, and the newer, more caring, more liberal, and more tolerant - humanistic if you like - attitudes that his lawyer grandfather and great-grandfather brought to an almost moribund profession. Mix all of this together with the revolutionary theories of Charles Darwin (theories that must surely have permeated every corner of Leith Hill Place), plus the hugely influential creations of the Wedgwood family – and their own liberal attitudes to their workers - and you have an anvil of creativity, and not least care for your fellow human beings - that comes shining through every piece of music RVW wrote.

To Be Continued…

Check out the price of The Wasps CD: In North America. In the UK.

Driving through the Welsh mountains this last weekend with the most beautiful woman in the world, and listening to a Jon Lord CD, I began to think about which genre of music Jon Lord belongs, or should belong, if he belongs anywhere at all.

The CD in question is Pictured Within and was recorded and released back in 1998, and on first hearing might be considered to be a rock album for no other reason than Jon Lord was, is, the keyboard player with Deep Purple. But on second and third hearing, and in my case 40th hearing, the very personal music of Jon Lord can only sit within the classical category for the very simple reason that it uses all the musical ammunition available to the classical composer thereby creating a depth of emotional feeling that today is only found, for instance, in the work of such contemporary composers as John Tavener ( most obviously in The Protecting Veil), and John Adams, whose haunting piece, Harmonium, is probably, for such musicians as Jon Lord, a hugely influential source of creative possibilities.

Pictured Within uses a very simple format of piano, solo cello (very Tavener), solo violin and voice, backed by a small orchestra consisting of a handful of strings, a couple of French horns and a soprano saxophone. What Lord creates out of this small gathering is a huge earth shattering sound ( most notably in the title piece) that at other times, in the pieces ‘Mountain - sunset’, and ‘A Different Sky’, are also little more than whispers.

As with the aforementioned Tavener and Adams Jon Lord proves the point that contemporary music can be accessible and inclusive.

Buy Pictured Within by Jon Lord.

Steve Newman

Why Handel Waggled His Wig is a book about six great composers written for children by the brilliant cellist, Steven Isserlis. It follows on from his equally fun-style Why Beethoven Threw The Stew.

Isserlis is a great cellist and he writes as he plays, boldly and brassily. We are told his pieces have been examined for authenticity by a team of eminent musicologists. Was that really necessary?

The composers in Handel’s Wig are: Handel, Haydn, Dvorak, Schubert, Faure and Tchaikovsky. Plenty of variation and eccentricity there.

Kate Kellerway writes for Guardian Unlimited: “From the moment I started this book, I was entertained and laughing aloud. If, like Handel, I had an enormous white wig with which to react, I would definitely be waggling it enthusiastically right now. Steven Isserlis is a gifted cellist, but there is no reason at all to assume that he can, therefore, write. But this is the thing; as a writer, he turns out to be a natural, although not exactly normal.”

The book is published by Faber.