1921 - 2006

With the death of Sir Malcolm Arnold the musical world, and not least the English musical world, lost a composer of huge vision and inclusiveness who was also the last link with those composers who came to prominence in the first half of the 20th century, most notably (in respect to their influence on the young Arnold) Vaughan Williams, Arnold Bax, William Walton, and perhaps to a lesser extent Edward Elgar - although in Arnold’s lush orchestrations and his ability to move from boisterousness to slow melancholy - which matched his own unstable schizophrenic nature - we do hear the influence of the Worcester born composer.

But there was another and perhaps more important musical influence on the Northampton born Arnold, namely that of Louis Armstrong who he managed to see and hear in Bournemouth in the 1930s when that most famous of jazz musicians was on a European tour fronting a band made up of British and European players. Such was the influence on the youngster that he persuaded his father (a wealthy Methodist shoe manufacturer) to buy him a trumpet.

Such was his ability with the instrument that when Arnold won a scholarship to the Royal College of Music in 1938 he decided that, apart from studying composition, he would also make the trumpet his main academic pre-occupation, and a means of earning a few bob when he sat in with a few jazz bands in the evening.

After graduating from the RCM he joined the London Philharmonic and soon became their principle trumpet.

Although a fine player Arnold’s main ambition, and passion, was to become a composer, an ambition that had been encouraged by Duke Ellington who’d met Arnold in a Bournemouth tea shop (the seaside resort was a major pre-war venue for visiting American jazz musicians) in the 1930s. And we can hear in Arnold’s work that wonderful freedom of expression that inhabits the best of jazz, plus the ability and ingenuity to do what might appear at first listening to be musically incorrect (as the case with Ellington) plus humour - which is a hallmark of both Arnold’s and Ellington’s work. What we also hear in Arnold’s work - a skill he would use to good effect in his film music - is that of tight section work (another jazz element) and an ability to swing like the devil when he needs too (with the trumpet often leading) which is something most classical composers fail so miserably at.

At the outbreak of World War II Arnold registered as a conscientious objector, but in 1944 changed his mind and joined the army where, after months of hard training, he was found to be unfit for active duty and attached to a home regiment as a cornet player in the band.

Such was Arnold’s indignation at not being allowed to fight (and having to play in such a lowly outfit as an army band after the dizzy heights of the London Philharmonic) that he shot himself in the foot (a serious offence that could have put him in a tough army prison for a couple of years), which brought about his discharge. It was also one of the first signs of what became increasing bouts of clinical depression and attempts at suicide.

But in a strange way Arnold’s schizophrenia came to his rescue, with the bold, hugely talented, and ego-bound of his two identities coming to the surface, an identity that enabled him, after the war, to quickly make a name for himself as a composer of intricate, yet melodic, concerti and symphonies that quickly caught the ear of the British and American film industries.

In all Arnold wrote 132 film scores, the most famous of which, The Belles of St Trinians, Hobson’s Choice, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, Whistle Down the Wind,and of course The Bridge on the River Kwai (for which he won an Oscar), which earned him the huge respect of most of his composing contemporaries (and not a little jealousy too), but also a great deal of love from the cinema going public, who would soon recognize an Arnold score by its wonderful brass led melodic lines interspersed with humour and a great deal of human heart ache too, and where required, tragedy. What Arnold’s music gave - and gives - to the public is that much needed sense of the sharing of shared emotions. You get that in bucketfuls with Malcolm Arnold’s music.

What the film music also did was earn Arnold a huge amount of money that freed him to write 9 symphonies, 3 ballets, 3 operas, a string of concertos, including one for the harmonica player Larry Adler, and another for the guitarist Julian Bream.

It was music that would also earn his a CBE in 1970, and a Knighthood in 1993, plus a Wavendon Award, and a Novello Award.

Throughout his life Arnold maintained a strong social conscience that resulted in many trips abroad to represent the British Musicians Union in their attempts to build musical bridges between West and East. As a result of one such visit to Czechoslovakia in 1957 Arnold met and became friends with Shostakovich, whose music and personal plight behind the Iron Curtain he highlighted.

In 1968 Arnold was commissioned by the Trades Union Congress to write the Peterloo Overture to commemorate the organization’s 100th birthday. It is a stirring piece of work that beautifully (if that is the right word) retells that violent event.

During the 1980s Arnold, with the London Symphony Orchestra, conducted Deep Purple’s Concerto For Group and Orchestra, and Jon Lord’s (Deep Purple’s keyboard player) Gemini Siute.

By the late 1980s Arnold’s music was seen by some in the classical music world, including the BBC, as old hat and almost unworthy (a common occurrence with English composers), but which has over the last few years come to be seen and heard as some of the finest music ever written.

I’m currently re-listening to his symphonies, and they are spell-binding.

Sir Malcolm Henry Arnold died in the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital of a chest infection on the 23rd of September, the day his latest work, The Three Musketeers, was premiered at the Alhambra Theatre in Bradford.

He will be missed.

Steve Newman