I first heard of George Lloyd about twenty years ago when I came across his second piano concerto on the BBC. I was overwhelmed by it, by its simplicity and stretched melodic lines that slowly embrace you like a lover. And the music is both mysterious ( like a good thriller writer Lloyd doesn’t give too much away too soon) yet familiar - familiar in the sense that its root stock comes from Delius and Vaughan Williams, yet, with that combination of faith and hope, a third voice, the unique voice of Lloyd, comes through like great shafts of sunlight striking Bodmin Moor on a dull summer’s day with the wind turbines marching across a landscape that, in musical terms, is undoubtedly Lloyd’s.

A couple of years ago I was in Cornwall researching for some pieces I was writing on D.H.Lawrence and inevitably found myself at the Zennor Folk Museum which has a good display of the fraught times Lawrence and his wife Frieda spent on the outskirst of Zennor during the First World War. Toward the end of my visit to the museum I came across a first floor room full of rusty domestic nick nacks that made me realise what a major task it must have been to simply open a tin can when Lawrence was looking for the quiet life back in 1917 and simply wanted to be left alone to write and look at the sea as I was now doing through a small church-like window set in the north-west-facing end wall of the room, a window that had a small sign above telling the world as secretly as it could that the composer George Lloyd was born in that very room in 1913, which meant that, as a four year old, he would have seen the strange red bearded man in a green corduroy suit, and his flamboyant German wife in flowing red skirts walking through the village or on the cliff tops many times. They are in his music - their oddness and their vibrancy and their colour, the red and the green.

George Lloyd began to compose early and had some success in the 1930s with two operas and a couple of symphonies, but then World War II came along Lloyd joined the Royal Marines where his long association with band music started. When his ship, HMS Trinidad was torpedoed on artic convoy service he thereafter began to suffer badly from shell shock which effectively destroyed his post war musical career. He spent many years earning a living growing mushrooms and carnations when Benjamin Britten for instance ( who lived in the US during WWII and saw no military service) was making a big musical name for himself.

When Lloyd came back to composing he was considered by many to be old hat, but listen to his music now and there can be no doubt that his creativity and genuine emotion, and not least his skill as an orchestrator and composer of mood and place is second only to the aforemention Delius and Vaughan Williams. He leaves many another English composer out in the cold.

Of his work Lloyd wrote:

” In the early ’60’s I was browsing over the idea of writing a piano concerto when I heard John Ogden for the first time: from then on I knew the style of playing I needed and always had the sound of that great player in my head. It was fortunate for me that Sir Charles Groves decided to give the first performance during October 1964 with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and John Ogdon as soloist.

” I had intended writing a large scale concerto with three movements but early on the first movement took on so much life of its own that it became the single-movement concerto I called ‘Scapegoat’.”

George Lloyd died in 1998 and left a lasting legacy of 12 symphonies, 4 piano concertos, 2 violin concertos, 3 operas, a large cantata for chorus and orchestra, ‘The Vigil of Venus’, and numerous smaller works including several for brass band.

If you want to find out more about George Lloyd, and support his music go to The George Lloyd Society.

Or visit the museum in Zennor.

Steve Newman

Sir Edward Elgar was something of a nomad, living at twenty four different addresses. Apart from seven in London, and one in Sussex, the rest were in Worcestershire and Herefordshire, with one in Warwickshire: Tiddington House.

The New Year’s Honours List of 1928 brought yet another title to add to Elgar’s roll call, that of Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order; it also brought another move for the 72 year old composer, this time from the 17th century Battenhall Manor in Worcestershire, to Tiddington, just outside Stratford-upon-Avon.

Tiddington House was late Georgian, built of brick, cement rendered, and painted white, with an impressive entrance porch in the style of The White House. To the left of the porch was a giant magnolia tree. The inside consisted, on the ground floor, and to the right, of a large dining room, morning room, and study, and a slightly smaller drawing room (which housed Elgar’s grand piano) on the left, all with large French windows opening onto the substantial gardens. A wide oak staircase led from a large panelled hallway to four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the first floor, with a second staircase leading to four large attic rooms. A large kitchen and scullery was situated in the basement.

It was a house that suited Elgar’s hard earned social status, and with a recent legacy of £7,000, a retainer of £500 a year from HMV, £200 a year from his late wife’s inheritance, as well as conducting fees - and at last some performance and recording royalties - he could now afford the rent of such an imposing house. It pleased Sir Edward hugely that he was now able to live in the kind of house his father - a piano tuner and music shop owner in Worcester - had only been able to visit via the tradesmans entrance.

The house belonged to Sir Gerard and Lady Muntz of Ullenhall, and it would seem Elgar only agreed to lease the property as a result of Lady Muntz personally inviting Sir Edward’s two dogs inside to view - if Elgar’s dogs were unhappy so was he. Mina, the Cairn Terrier, and Marco, the Spaniel, obviously approved, and Sir Edward, with the help of his daughter Carice, moved into the furnished property during the Easter holidays of 1928.

Four and a half acres of garden surrounded the house, with lawns, paddocks, and orchards meandering down to the large river frontage. On the north western side of the house was a large kitchen garden, and behind that a courtyard with stables, and a garage for Elgar’s 1924 Lea-Francis motor car. There was also a wooden boathouse.

Billy Reed, the leader of the London Symphony Orchestra, remembered the fishing rods always at the ready in the boathouse, with a very smart rowing boat used constantly to ferry guests into Stratford for dinner at The Swans Nest Hotel. There is a lovely photograph of a very relaxed - and bare footed - Sir Edward, wearing a white summer suit and straw hat, happily rowing himself along the Avon, looking every inch like Mr Toad.

Elgar, an accomplished Shakespearean scholar had, in 1927, written to William Bridges-Adams, the artistic director of the Memorial Theatre, suggesting he might write some incidental music. He repeated his request on his move to Tiddington, but sadly nothing seems to have come of Elgar’s suggestion. It is one of those tantalising “what ifs” of musical history.

Elgar entertained widely during his tenancy of the property, with many of Billy Reed’s fellow LSO musicians - an orchestra Elgar considered to be his own - among his many guests. The composer’s life long friend, architect Arthur Troyte Griffith ( the 7th Enigma Variation), often visited, as did the Worcester Cathedral organist Ivor Atkins. The young, and rather shy Adrian Boult made several visits, as did of course Elgar’s old friend and champion, George Bernard Shaw.

After a hectic day of fishing, boating, bonfire construction, music making, and either picnics at the river’s edge, or long lunches in front of a blazing log fire, Elgar would get his chauffer-cum-butler Dick Mountford to row his guests into town. Elgar would then march them to Greenhill Street, and the old Picture House - now doubling as a temporary Memorial Theatre since the fire of 1926 - to take in a play, or the latest silent film.

Sir Edward did write some music at Tiddington, most notably the incidental music for Bertram P. Mathews’s play Beau Brummel which premiered at the Theatre Royal Birmingham on November 5th 1928, with the pit orchestra conducted by Elgar. Another piece written during Elgar’s Tiddington period was a setting of some verses by Ben Johnson, for the Gloucester Festival.

Although the BBC didn’t commission Elgar to write a 3rd Symphony until 1933, it is possible some early sketches for a large scale work my have been written at Tiddington. And George Bernard Shaw did write to Elgar in early 1929, after the completion of his play The Apple Cart , saying how “… he had feared that he may never complete another play again, but that he had done so was proof there was life in the old dog yet, and that it is your turn now. Cap it with a symphony!”

It must have been quite a sight to have glimpsed Elgar and GBS together in the gardens of Tiddington House: the elegant, and ram-rod straight figure of Elgar instructing GBS on the finer points of constructing, and burning bonfires, with the tall, gesticulating GBS, lecturing England’s most famous composer on the merits of socialism. There is some conjecture that Elgar - a staunch Conservative - may even have voted Labour in the 1929 general election.

Another, rather more charming image of the two elder statesmen of the arts, must surely be that of Sir Edward and GBS sitting either end of the long dining table at Tiddington, napkins tucked into their shirt collars, with Marco and Mina - also bibbed and tuckered - sitting in chairs on either side of the table, with Dick serving Elgar’s favourite dish of bangers and mash from a silver platter. One can imagine the famous raised eyebrow of GBS as he observed this daily ritual.

Elgar often made the train journey from Stratford to London - easy and frequent in those days - to see West End shows, and in 1929 - with GBS - went to see Jerome Kern’s Show Boat, starring Paul Robeson. Elgar loved the show, and Robeson’s performance, and a few weeks later confided in Gracie Fields - at the HMV Abbey Road Studios - how he wished he could write “…such tinkling tunes.”

In December 1929 Elgar left Tiddington House and moved to what became his final home, Marl Bank, in Worcester.

Sir Edward Elgar died at 7:45am on the 23rd February 1934, aged 76, with Marco and Mina at his side.

Tiddington House remained empty for some time after Elgar’s departure, finally being sold by Lady Muntz to the Stratford estate agents Winter & Dawe. In the spring of 1931 it was bought by a Mr and Mrs Wedd, and remained in their family until 1964 when it was sold to developers. It was demolished the same year to make way for eight “Georgian” style detached houses which make up Beeches Walk, situated on the left as you leave the village. Part of the original roadside wall is still there, but alas no blue plack to commemorate Elgar.

Steve Newman

I’m delighted to announce that Steve Newman, actor, playwright and Commissioning Director at publisher, Humdrumming will be joining me here at Classy Classical to provide historical insights into the major English composers.

Steve describes his qualifications for the task thus: “I have a passion for English composers, and next year is the ‘Year of Elgar’. I’ll be writing some historical pieces on Elgar, Delius, Vaughan Williams, Holst and so on. And I once wrote a play about Elgar and Delius.”

Many readers will know of Steve’s writing on music from our sister site: Jazz Groove. He also authors A Publisher’s Diary about his work at Humdrumming.

We look forward eagerly to Steve’s contributions.