After another season of achingly politically correct Proms from the BBC, directed for the last time by Nicholas Kenyon, there’s a slim hope for a return to the glory days of Sir Henry Wood and Sir Malcolm Sargent.

Royal Albert Hall

What should be an occasion for celebration of everything English — something like Burn’s Night is for Scotland — we are instead treated to a sickly soup of multiculturalism and tributes to the European Union.

Time, I think, to remove this festival of “classical” music from the BBC and hand it to some other body that will treat it with care for its origins.

The Last Night was, true to form, hopelessly out of focus. The famous sea song medley was ruined by the addition of Celtic airs which, Kenyon never seems to spot, is totally out of place.

Ah well, if the new Director doesn’t put this right, the Proms will probably be replaced by the Notting Hill Carnival as England’s premier musical event. Time to emigrate, I think.

This year’s series of Promenade Concerts at the Royal Albert Hall has been a strange affair.

Some of the concerts have been less than rivetting, leading to half-empty houses. A few of the guest orchestras have been too small for the space, sounding underpowered for no fault of their own.

Worse though, has been the behaviour of the Promenaders themselves. The legendary knowledge of those who stand in the middle of the auditorium, lending an unequalled atmosphere to the Last Night, has been called into question for the first time. It seems there is a growing tendency to break into applause between movements. Tuts and tsks can be heard from the more expensive seats around the hallowed hall.

But there is an even more woeful cause for complaint. Promenaders have been spotted lying down in the hall, some apparently asleep. Other couples were said to be shamelessly canoodling while the music played.

Sir Malcolm Sargent must be apoplectic in Valhalla.

W.H. Reed’s Elgar As I Knew Him — Part 2

Reed first met Elgar at the Queen’s Hall, London, in 1902…

“ We had been rehearsing his funeral march from Grania and Diarmid, and I was so thrilled by the music, and by what was to my ear the newness of the orchestral sound, that I left my seat among the first violins and followed him out through the curtains until I caught him up half way up the stairs. Breathlessly I begged him to excuse me for thrusting myself forward, but I was anxious to know whether he gave lessons in harmony, counterpoint, etc. His answer was characteristic: ‘My dear boy I don’t know anything about those things.’ Rather subdued, I returned to my seat in the orchestra, hoping that Mr. Wood (now Sir Henry) had not noticed my brief absence. Little did I then think that those few words exchanged on the stairs at Queen’s Hall were to be the prelude to a firm and most intimate friendship, which would last without any break for over thirty years: in fact, until the day of his death.”

It was Sir Edward who made the next move…

“ It was soon very evident that Elgar was not annoyed by my temerity in running after him that day, for afterwards, whenever he came to conduct, he never failed to speak to me on his way to or from the conductor’s desk, always finding something friendly and encouraging to say. Naturally very much flattered that he should remember my existence, what was my astonishment when, meeting him one day in Regent Street, he stopped me to know whether I had any spare time, and if so could I come up to see him at a flat in New Cavendish Street where he was then living. He was sketching out something for the fiddle, and wanted to settle, in his own mind, some question of bowing and certain intricacies in the passage work. As can easily be imagined, I leapt at his suggestion.”

Elgar and the author. Photo by Mr E.Hall, BBC Symphony Orchestra

Which is a bit like a playwright of the time, say Somerset Maugham, asking a relatively unknown actor to pop round to try out a few lines. But then Elgar was a generous man, with his wife the driving force, and…

“ It was at his flat in New Cavendish Street that I was introduced to Lady Elgar. She, in my opinion, exercised a decisive influence upon Elgar and his music. She had the loftiest ideals imaginable, and, though not able to criticise him technically, she had unerring judgement and æsthetic sense, amounting to a sure instinct for the rightness and fitness of things…”

Which is something I try to bring across in my play A Summer Garden. It’s my opinion, and that of many others, that marrying Alice Roberts was the best thing Elgar ever did.

Billy Reed goes on to write…

“ One evening later in the year, Elgar had been working nearly all day; and we were sitting discussing the details of the construction and the possible lay-out of the orchestration which would follow, when he suddenly said, ‘You know, Billy’ - I was Billy by this time - ‘ my wife is a wonderful woman. I play phrases and tunes to her because she always likes to see what progress I have been making. Well, she nods her head and says nothing, or just “ Oh, Edward!” - but I know whether she approves or not, and I always feel that there is something wrong with it if she doesn’t. She never expresses her disapproval, as she feels she is not sufficiently competent to judge of the workings of the musical mind; but, a few nights before you came, we were at Plas Gwyn, Hereford. I played some of the music I had written that day, and she nodded her head appreciatively, except over one passage, at which she sat up, rather grimly, I thought. However, I went to bed leaving it as it was; but I got up as soon as it was light and went down to look over what I had written. I found it as I had left it, except that there was a little piece of paper, pinned over the offending bars, on which was written, “ All of it is beautiful and just right, except this ending. Don’t you think, dear Edward, that this end is just a little…?” Well, Billy, I scrapped that end. Not a word was ever said about it; but I rewrote it; and as I heard no more I knew that it was approved.’”

And it’s these insights that Reed brings to his book that makes it such an important document for the lover, and the scholar, of Elgar’s music.

William Henry Reed was born in France on July 29th 1876 (just five days before Wild Bill Hickock was shot dead by Jack MacCall in Deadwood). He studied violin and composition at the London Royal Academy of Music, where he graduated with honours. By 1904 he’d joined the London Symphony Orchestra, and by 1912 had become leader, a position he held until 1935 when he became Chairman of the Orchestra.

Throughout his career Reed taught violin at the Royal College of Music, conducted many amateur orchestras, and acted as an examiner and adjudicator.

Apart from playing, teaching and adjudicating, Reed was also an accomplished composer, which included a Symphony for Strings, a Violin Concerto in A Minor, plus a good deal of very popular light orchestral pieces, most notably Down in the West Country and Aesop’s Fables. But for me it’s his beautiful collection of Chamber Music for Violin and Piano, which were recorded in 2004 by Dutton Digital, with Robert Gibbs (violin & viola), and Mary Mei-Loc-Wu on piano.

To Be Continued…

Aficionados of Classy Classical will surely know by now that 2007 is the 150th anniversary of the birth of Sir Edward Elgar.

We have already published here Steve Newman’s play on the great man, A Summer Garden.

Now BBC Radio 3 is to broadcast David Pownall’s Elgar drama tomorrow, Sunday June 3, at 9pm BST (8pm GMT). You can hear this play wherever you are, as the BBC now puts its radio programmes on the internet.

Go here to listen : http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/

You may need to download a free Radio Player to hear it, but once you have, you’ll be able to listen to all the other Elgar features planned during the summer, and much more besides.

If you miss the actual broadcast, there’s a button to “Listen Again”.