CONRAD SALINGER -

M-G-M ARRaNGER SUPREME

by RICHARD HINDLEY

 "What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again"

Think of a production number from one of the great MGM musicals. Whether it be Gene Kelly splashing along the sidewalk from ‘Singin’ in the Rain’, Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse ‘Dancing in the Dark’ from ‘The Bandwagon’, or Fred with Judy Garland as a ‘Couple of Swells’ in ‘Easter Parade’, the chances are you’ll be associating these famous performers with those equally well known arrangements by Conrad Salinger. What’s interesting is that even if he hadn’t been associated with the number of your choice, it was Salinger who eventually set the defining style of the studio’s musicals, something that took place soon after the start of his 23 year career there.

 His life-long friend and associate, John Green, who was Head of the MGM Music Department in the 1950s, described him as the studio’s ‘star orchestrator, one of the two or three outstanding arranger/orchestrators in the entire field of musical theatre’. In a recent interview John Wilson described Salinger’s talents: "he could translate colour and mood into sound to produce the most startling production numbers. When needed he could write on a grand scale, as in the climax of ‘This Heart of Mine’ (‘Ziegfeld Follies’, 1946), and then he would paint delicate smaller scale sound pictures as in parts of ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ (1952)".

Jeff Sultanof, conductor, arranger and editor, describes it in technical terms: "Salinger’s genius was to fill the sound canvas with rich, beautiful harmonies balanced with contrapuntal lines, and then set them in basic orchestral colour groups, the combination almost too busy in some cases, but not quite. There are those who believe that MGM’s musicals are over-orchestrated and overdone musically, but I’ve rarely heard a musician complain about Salinger’s work, because it is skilfully written and yet inspired. And there is always room for the singer. This is why Salinger’s work continues to inspire orchestrators, even though few of us will ever have the opportunity to create that level of work since there are few movie musicals made today".

Salinger’s credentials are a case in point when it comes to music making in Hollywood, where three composers - Max Steiner, Alfred Newman and Erich Korngold - had established during the nineteen thirties a scoring style based on nineteenth century romanticism. Moving on to the Hollywood musicals from the 1940s, Salinger’s talents brought in a French sensibility to the musical scene, influenced by Debussy and Ravel, and, by implication, their acknowledged master, Rimsky-Korsakov, whose rich orchestrations left an indelible mark on both of them. Christopher Hampton, the late musician and writer, also credits Frederic Delius as an influence too, reminding us that he’d lived for most of his life in France, and whose music was deeply influenced by Impressionist painting. Hints of the legacy of these composers run through Salinger’s work and you can sometimes spot a dash of Respighi and Stravinsky as well. To understand why, you only have to look at his background.

"It’s a lovely day that’s all around you, count your treasures you are well-to-do…"

In its promotional publicity, Brookline, Massachusetts, describes itself as ‘a desirable commuter suburb of Boston’. John F Kennedy was born there in 1917, and its later musical residents included Arthur Fiedler, Serge Koussevitsky (a music professor from Moscow who became conductor of the Boston Symphony) and Roland Hayes (a renowned black American lyric tenor). Ironically, there is no mention of Conrad Salinger, born there on 30th August 1901. The music flowing from his pen would be heard by more people around the world than all three of these together. This image of Brookline gives an implication that he came from a wealthy and probably cultivated family, one that could afford to encourage his talents even after his graduation from Harvard in 1923. To complete his musical studies, he crossed the Atlantic to France where he was enrolled in the Paris Conservatoire. Yet this shift to another culture was enticing in more ways than one: Salinger was homosexual, and, by moving to Paris, he could turn his back on the puritanical and censorious society of his upbringing. (In fact Boston retained this reputation well into the 20th century, prompting the expression "Banned in Boston" - an unintentional pun mercilessly exploited in the sixties in the eponymous David Rose bump and grind composition - for MGM Records, to boot).

Salinger studied harmony and orchestration with André Gédalge, himself author of a famous work on counterpoint, and possibly Maurice Ravel as well. The tuition with Ravel is in dispute, but Ravel was certainly involved at the Conservatoire during this period, another of his pupils being Ralph Vaughan Williams. In any case, Ravel himself had studied under Gédalge - whose other pupils included Darius Milhaud and Arthur Honegger. But there would have been other influences at work on Salinger as well, for let’s not forget what a vibrant and exciting place Paris was at this time. Even after the ravages of the First World War it still remained the arts capital of the world, with jazz adding to the vigour of the music scene, aided and abetted by such luminaries as Josephine Baker who created a sensation with her performances of exotic primitivism.

Salinger spent a total of seven years in Paris, and apart from learning to speak fluent French, he would have been exposed to the popular French music of the day. Running throughout his work are cheerful jaunty motifs, redolent of the boulevards of Paris: think ‘Mimi’ by Rodgers and Hart and ‘Ah Paree!’ from Stephen Sondheim’s ‘Follies’, to name other writers who have consciously parodied that French boulevard style in their songs. This influence, with its lightness of touch mixed with the solid academic background from the Conservatoire (he was a proficient composer and conductor, too) was to serve Salinger brilliantly during his career, although the technicolor world of the French capital as portrayed in ‘An American in Paris’, ‘Funny Face’ and ‘Gigi’ lay quite a few years ahead. One wonders what the look on the face of André Gédalge would have been, were he to have heard ‘Sinbad the Sailor’, Salinger’s reworking of Rimsky-Korsakov’s ‘Scheherezade’ some 25 years later for Gene Kelly’s ‘Invitation to the Dance’.

"Your troubles there, they’re out of style, for Broadway always wears a smile…"

Returning to the art deco splendour of New York in 1929, Salinger was very much a cultivated ‘man of the world’, always impeccably dressed, an image of sartorial splendour that he’d retain throughout his life, quite the opposite of the public’s idea of how many musicians present themselves. Indeed, closer inspection of a 1937 photograph taken of him joking with co-worker John Green reveals a framed reproduction of the Dutch master Vermeer: an unexpected adornment for the wall of his office, where presumably the photograph was taken, but certainly in keeping with his refinement.

His professional career started at Harms, the music publishing company, as a staff arranger. He then moved into the world of Broadway shows and the movie industry, for at this time some of it was still based in New York. His first film experience was for Paramount, both at their Astoria Studios on Long Island and the Paramount Theatre on 41st Street NYC. This was the era when first run movie releases were preceded by spectacular stage shows. The head of the department who engaged him was Adolph Deutsch, who would reappear in Salinger’s career at MGM. Salinger is acknowledged to be an uncredited arranger, along with John Green, for the Lubitch musical ‘The Smiling Lieutenant’ (1931).

Between 1932 to 1937 Salinger concentrated on arranging for a dozen Broadway shows, initially assisting Robert Russell Bennett, who considered him to be a protégé.  David Raksin and John Green were other noteworthy arrangers on some of these shows, again names that would reappear at MGM. Green in fact scored the Broadway show ‘Here Goes the Bride’ in 1931 on which Salinger worked. Other titles from this period include ‘George White’s Scandals’ (1936) and ‘Billy Rose’s Jumbo’ (1935) with a Rodgers and Hart score. This one would eventually be filmed at MGM in the sixties after delays of many years caused by contractual restraints. Of particular interest is ‘Ziegfeld Follies of 1936’ which boasted a sophisticated score by Vernon Duke and Ira Gershwin and a cast including Bob Hope, Fanny Brice and Eve Arden. This is one of the few instances where we can now hear a new cast recording utilising the original arrangements, all painstakingly reconstructed. Issued recently on CD by Decca USA, it evocatively conveys the original intentions of the production, although the many glorious arrangements, the work of three other arrangers in addition to Salinger, regrettably remain unsigned.

"I’m on my way, here’s my beret, I’m going Hollywood…"

Salinger’s transition to Hollywood was not instantaneous: his first assignment was for Alfred Newman at Goldwyn-United Artists in 1937, but the experience proved unenjoyable and he returned to New York and Broadway. He was also assigned to the the Astaire/Rogers musical ‘Carefree’ (1938) at RKO, where his work as arranger/orchestrator went uncredited, as was that of his co-worker Robert Russell Bennett. But by now Salinger’s fame and reputation had spread throughout the industry, and he’d already met up with Roger Edens, an accomplished musician and writer, a man of many talents who acted virtually as an associate producer at MGM. Edens was a close colleague of songwriter producer Arthur Freed, who was to create the studio’s most prestigious musicals. This he achieved by surrounding himself with a handpicked team composed of the studio’s top talent, the legendary ‘Freed Unit’. Freed’s clout and standing ensured its members were virtually on call for his productions, much to the occasional annoyance of other producers at the studio. 

Edens arranged that Salinger should immediately join the Unit and he was eventually offered an irresistible long-term contract that drew him permanently to Hollywood. This was a well worn path for countless actors, directors and musicians since the start of talking pictures, for Hollywood had always had the drawcard of fame with its concomitant wealth to seduce talent to its doors. So Salinger gave his regards to Broadway and started a career at MGM. His contribution to some 50 musicals would be inextricably linked to the fortunes of the MGM dream factory.

"Where troubles melt like lemon drops away across the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me…"

His first assignment was on ‘The Wizard of Oz’(1939) as the uncredited orchestrator of the ill fated ‘Jitterbug’ number, unfortunately destined for the cutting room floor, although the music track remains in existence. ‘Strike Up the Band’ (1940) brought him his first on-screen credit and from then on the credits run thick and fast, his work on all the musicals directed by Vincente Minnelli from 1942 being particularly inspired. Minnelli was also an import from Broadway as well as being a self-confessed Francophile. Their collaboration worked to such an extent that, as John Wilson aptly puts it, ‘he heard what Minnelli saw’. No wonder his work reached new highs. Jeff Sultanof describes it as being ‘beautiful to hear and sophisticated in content. I believe the other orchestrators at MGM were influenced by Salinger. Wally Heglin’s arrangements before and after 1943 show the Salinger influence as an example’.

During these years Salinger and Roger Edens created a powerful synergy in their contribution to the production numbers: Edens would sketch out the mood, tempo, texture and setting of a prospective number, after which Salinger fleshed out the details. ‘The Trolley Song’ in Minnelli’s second movie musical ‘Meet Me in St Louis’ (1944) is the perfect example, and a description of Judy Garland’s recording of it is vividly described in a book by Hugh Fordin on the Freed Unit: ‘even after the orchestra’s first reading of his arrangement…an excitement spread among those playing and listening. Then, when Judy came in with her dead-sure instinct of what she was to deliver, the ceiling seemed to fly off the stage…..Salinger’s arrangement was a masterpiece. It conveyed all the colour, the motion, the excitement that was eventually going to be seen on the screen. With the remaining numbers and the background scoring for this film as well as all the work he was to do thereafter, Salinger always maintained sonority and texture in his writing, which made his a very special sound and style that has never been equalled in the American movie musical’.

For the next Minnelli collaboration, ‘Ziegfeld Follies’ (1946) we get sumptuous and exotic textures, notably in the lavish production numbers ‘Limehouse Blues’ and ‘This Heart of Mine’. In the latter Salinger includes French horn obbligato passages worthy of Richard Strauss to transport us well and truly ‘over the top’. But most importantly, in both these numbers, it’s the narrative - the dramatic story telling which bursts through the confines of those popular songs - that pushes the art of the arranger well into the realms of composer.

Jeff Sultanof points out that the Salinger style ‘was also tailored for the microphone, an important distinction’, and this is the key explanation of that unique MGM sound. In the late twenties, Bing Crosby had studied the limitations of 78 rpm recording techniques, tailoring his voice accordingly. In similar fashion, Salinger accepted that the optical sound recording of the day, the process that preceded tape recording by photographing the audio onto film - had a limited dynamic range, with a consequent loss in quality between live performance and final release print. Despite those huge Hollywood budgets and virtually limitless musical resources at the studio, he realised his writing sounded best with around 38 players, more in keeping with the pit orchestras of Broadway. Any choral backing was consequently scaled down to match, thus creating something relatively easier (and less costly) to record. But this also had the advantage of creating an orchestra from the cream of talent available. As described by John Wilson: ‘it was really a dance band line-up with a string section. Many of the musicians had been star players with such as Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey. Si Zentner, for example, usually led the trombones. And they were augmented as required from film to film. Above all, though, the orchestra was noted for its warmth of the brass sound and the ‘fat’, almost old-fashioned string sound. You have to bear in mind that America received a flood of refugees from Europe, particularly from Russia, and that many brought with them the Jewish traditions of string playing. So the sound is rich and vibrant, full-bodied, at times almost flashy, with a strong vibrato, and relentlessly brilliant.’

"Forget your troubles come on get happy, you’d better chase all your cares away…"

Throughout his career at MGM, Salinger also distinguished himself as a composer of background scores for many of the musicals in addition to arranging the numbers, such as ‘Till the Clouds Roll By’ (1946) ‘On the Town’ (1949) and ‘Show Boat’ (1951) for which he shared an Oscar Nomination with Adolph Deutsch for ‘Best Scoring of a Musical Picture’. For some dramatic productions, such as ‘The Last Time I Saw Paris’ (1954) and ‘Gaby’ (1956) he scored the entire film, utilising as thematic inspiration Jerome Kern’s song for the former, and Richard Rodgers’ ‘Where or When’ for the latter. With the introduction of tape recording, and later on stereophonic recording, he saw the studio revert to the larger orchestra, which suited the new wide screen image and spectacular adaptations of Broadway musicals like ‘Brigadoon’ (1954) and ‘Kismet’ (1955) and ‘Silk Stockings’(1957). 

These gradually took over from the staple musical output that had been the hallmark of MGM into the early fifties, so that the release of such masterpieces as ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ (1952) and ‘The Bandwagon’ (1953) signalled the gradual demise of original scripts and the scaling down of musical output in general. Christopher Hampton considers this period to be the epitome of Salinger’s endeavours, when he created ‘the de luxe quality of orchestral writing exemplified by ‘Dancing in the Dark’, ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ and ‘The Heather on the Hill’ (from Brigadoon) - a quality born of his feeling for beauty of timbre, for mood, for atmosphere, for nuance, above all for line, the give-and-take of melody and countermelody’.

By the mid fifties, Metro was starting to fall apart, with producers no longer under contract and the famous roster of stars well on the wane. Consequently we find Salinger looking in other directions for employment. His credit, as composer, is to be found in the TV series ‘General Electric Theatre’ (1954),   ‘Wagon Train’ (1957) - quite a contrast to frothy musicals, but in the distinguished company of such other composers as David Raksin, David Buttolph and Gerry Goldsmith - and ‘Batchelor Father’ (1960 series). Even so, Salinger still worked as orchestrator on the dwindling number of musicals, two of them with Paris settings. ‘Funny Face’ was directed by Stanley Donen in 1957 and has the notable ‘Bonjour Paris’ number, for which Salinger provides a brilliant kaleidoscopic arrangement that describes the bustle and panoramas of the city in its underscoring of Roger Eden’s song. ‘Gigi’ (1958), proved to be the last production for the Freed Unit that was not developed from a Broadway show and Salinger’s last collaboration with Freed and Minnelli.

One surprise is to discover that he was the uncredited orchestrator on the blockbuster western ‘The Big Country’ (United Artists, 1958). The score, composed by Jerome Moross, is regarded as one of Hollywood’s best. One wonders what exactly Salinger’s contribution was, given his stature and years of experience against those of Moross, a relative newcomer to the Hollywood big league. There has to be an irony about those opening bars -  the composer describes the spinning wagon wheels of the main title, but his orchestrator is the man who had created and arranged the ‘Trolley Song’ wheel motif! Nevertheless, a compensating recognition was about to come to Salinger, one that would bring his name to prominence for the record-buying public.
By the late fifties Verve Records was identified with recordings featuring top jazz instrumentalists and singers. All the more unusual then, that Salinger was approached to prepare an instrumental album of his arrangements. This was the idea of Buddy Bregman, the label’s star arranger/conductor and head of A & R, a man with a huge list of impressive credits. By then he had already accompanied Ella Fitzgerald on both her Cole Porter and Rodgers and Hart Songbook albums, two of the top twenty-five albums in almost every magazine poll and Record Guide Book. These, plus the Bing Crosby album ‘Bing Sings Whilst Bregman Swings’ had all gone platinum. Bregman had also recorded several successful big band albums of his own. Norman Granz, chief producer at Verve (and creator of the label itself), gave Bregman the go-ahead, and the album started to take shape. Bregman recalls the 12 tracks, all of his own choosing, were mainly based on Salinger’s vocal arrangements from the MGM musicals, scored for the classic line up of 40 musicians that he’d hit upon for the MGM Studio Orchestra - although the sleeve notes of the album refer to the tracks  as ‘(the) personal favourites of Mr Salinger’. It was recorded at Capitol Records on Vine Street, Hollywood, in Studio A, and, as Bregman recalls: ‘Connie Salinger attended….he left everything to me….he loved everything and the musicians he did know he interacted with. He was thrilled that I thought of this idea’. Bregman describes him as ‘a sweet man, a shy guy who always smiled’, in fact the antithesis of Bregman himself who, for this album, had the magnanimity to step aside from his usual credit in deference to this other great musician.

The stereo album, ‘A Lazy Afternoon’ (Verve LP MGV 2068) was issued as ‘The Conrad Salinger Orchestra Conducted by Buddy Bregman’- and you don’t find many accolades like that in the recording industry. Bregman remains proud of the achievement: ‘It’s a great album - not for my work - but for the idea that I put the whole thing together and his great charts!’ If you were to find a copy of this rare album, you may agree that it’s one of the greatest, and a special one at that, for there must be no other where it’s the arranger who has top billing. But Salinger himself was not a recording artist and was unknown to the general public. Perhaps this was a disadvantage when it came to sales of the album, for in USA they proved to be disappointing. Certainly Verve Records’ clichéd dreamy girl cover – de rigeur for orchestral albums of the day – gives no hint of its unique contents. Consequently its British release was scaled down to an extended play 45rpm issue (HMV 7EG 8322), although it fared slightly better in Australia, where it appeared on Astor, a budget label of rather poor audio quality. Interestingly, Bregman admits the Salinger influence for his subsequent instrumental album of Gershwin songs featured in the movie ‘Funny Face’ (Verve LP MGV 2064). What wonderful CD reissues these two albums would now make!

‘Billy Rose’s Jumbo’ (1962, aka ‘Jumbo’), the last MGM musical on which Salinger worked, reunited him with the Rodgers and Hart score from his Broadway past. It turned out to be not only the last musical for the studio that has the identifiable ‘MGM sound’ but for Salinger it was both a completion and a full stop, for by now the entire future of the studio looked bleak. Hollywood continued to respond to the demands of a younger audience - with the realisation that the rock era was truly here to stay - plus even further declines in box office receipts. Eventually the studio would be scaled down solely for television production and by 1969 a new regime would appear, headed by James Aubrey, who would order the destruction of the entire music library - an act, viewed in hindsight, that symbolised the imperatives of accountancy over any cultural legacy that might have been preserved.

"then goodbye, brings a tear to the eye…"

Conrad Salinger lived in Pacific Palisades, one of the wealthiest and most beautiful suburbs of Los Angeles. It was here that, on 9th July 1961, he took his life. He was 59 years old. The international movie database notes the cause of death as a ‘heart attack while sleeping’, surely a more graceful and dignified public record of his passing.

Perhaps this is where we should take a few bars rest, those of us who remain ‘waltzing in the wonder of why we’re here’ to contemplate the achievements of this talented man. Hollywood, with its mega Dream Factory, may well have delivered him fame and riches, but perhaps at the expense of peace of mind. We have seen how his life’s work became linked to an enormous studio, whose fortunes and production of its once staple musical output both declined. During this period Salinger worked with its top talent, nourished by scores from the nation’s greatest songwriters: Kern, Berlin, Gershwin, Porter, Arlen, Youmans, Lerner and Loewe, Burton Lane, Hugh Martin, Arthur Schwartz, Harry Warren, Comden and Green, and not forgetting Arthur Freed himself, as lyricist. He became, as Jeff Sultanof puts it ‘perhaps the single greatest orchestrator for motion pictures that I’m aware of…. I believe the following orchestrations changed the course of popular orchestral writing: ‘Dancing in the Dark’, ‘Mack the Black’ (from ‘The Pirate’, 1948), ‘Singin’ in the Rain’, ‘This Heart of Mine’ and ‘The Trolley Song’.

"now the young world has grown old, gone are the silver and gold…"

The Metro musicals, like all movies, were once a disposable commodity, to be released one week and forgotten the next. But with the advent of sales to television and later the release of the ‘That’s Entertainment’ compilations from the MGM vaults, a new generation came to appreciate their merits. From the 80s they’ve been re-released on videotape, laserdisc and now DVD as well as on CD by the Rhino label. These CDs have restored the songs and numbers to the same duration as performed in the films, unrestricted by the timing constraints of previous 78rpm and LP releases.

Although Salinger was part of a vast team of talent, his contribution has nevertheless continued to be appreciated. In 1985 Barbra Streisand insisted on his orchestration of Jerome Kern’s ballad ‘Bill’ from ‘Show Boat’(1951) for her Broadway Album, which was then adapted by Peter Matz. Although a new arrangement had been presented to her, she could not forget seeing the movie as a child, with the Salinger arrangement staying in her memory, and that was the backing she wanted. The next significant recognition was on a much bigger scale: the release in 1990 of the Chandos CD ‘A Musical Spectacular: Songs and Production Numbers from the MGM Musicals’, recorded in London by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Elmer Bernstein. The arrangements were lovingly restored by the instigator of the project, Christopher Palmer, whose detailed sleeve notes celebrated Salinger’s work for the first time since Buddy Bregman’s album. Palmer described him as  ‘the real hero of the album’ which, thirteen years later, is in its third release, the latest version at last giving Salinger’s credit prominently on the front cover.

"But came the dawn, the show goes on, and I don’t wanna say godnight!"

March 2003 signalled an even more exciting event, when John Wilson presented his ‘That’s Entertainment’ concert at the Royal Festival Hall, London. John had set himself an enormous task of restoration to scorepaper of many of his favourite MGM numbers by accessing remnants of the originals, for the most part retained in sketch form for reasons of copyright, but ‘long hidden in deepest storage’. He assembled an 85 piece orchestra with an enormous choir of 100 to perform creations of many talented arrangers: Skip Martin, John Green, Andre Previn and Robert van Epps - but the most prominent name was that of Salinger. Unlike the Chandos recording, John ensured his line-up included many fine musicians familiar with the jazz idiom to recreate a much more authentic MGM sound. The audience, to quote John, ‘went bananas’ - proof indeed that these scores should have a secure life in the concert hall, in happy coexistence with the originals on the soundtracks of the movies themselves.

Salinger may well have had to deal with problems both professional and private at the end of his life, but we can still enjoy the legacy of his talent - a talent that enhances and sometimes transcends those glorious Metro musicals of his day.

Author’s postscript

In researching this article I acknowledge information from the following:

The book ‘MGM’s Greatest Musicals : The Arthur Freed Unit’ by Hugh Fordin, published by Da Capo Press New York 1996 (the book was originally published in 1975 under the title ‘The World of Entertainment! Hollywood’s Greatest Musicals’); Christopher Palmer’s sleeve notes for the RPO Chandos CD; John Wilson talking to Malcolm Laycock for BBC Radio 2; John Wilson’s programme notes for his ‘That’s Entertainment’ concert, supplied by RFS member Ken Bruce; and Gary Zantos, who has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the MGM studios.

Thanks are also due to Buddy Bregman, and especially to Jeff Sultanoff - his enthusiasm and supplying of invaluable information was a great inspiration. In addition to his conducting, arranging and editing activities, Jeff is also an author and Assistant Professor of Music at Five Towns University, Long Island, NY. (He modestly revealed that he has edited and recopied fifty-two Robert Farnon compositions and arrangements, which Bob has seen and approved. Working in conjunction with John Wilson, he is preparing a Robert Farnon edition of definitive versions of his music). Thanks also to my friend William Motzing, Lecturer in Jazz Studies, Sydney Conservatorium of Music, University of Sydney, for checking through the final draft. (Bill has recorded the Main Title from  Robert Farnon’s ‘Bear Island’ score on his 1994 double CD ‘Best of Adventure’ with the City of Prague Philharmonic).

Richard Hindley (June 2003)

Editor: Richard Hindley is a respected Film Editor, based in Mossman, NSW, Australia. His recent credits include the animated movie musical "The Magic Pudding" released by Fox/Icon, featuring the voices of John Cleese and Toni Colette; and the children’s television series "Out There", a co-production between ABC Australia, BBC and Sesame/Nicelodeon. Richard has been a member of the Robert Farnon Society since its very first meeting in 1956.

SOUND RESTORATION : HOW FAR SHOULD IT GO?

The Editor invites comments from the experts in the field

Two events have had a momentous impact upon the recording scene during the past 20 years. First of all the arrival of the compact disc has resulted in what can only be described as an explosion in the availability of music at an affordable price; and secondly (and more recently) advances in digital sound technology have made it possible to improve the sound quality of pre-1950s recordings to a degree which once would have been thought impossible.

In many respects 1950 (give or take a year either way) seems to have been a watershed in sound reproduction. Until then, the 78 rpm disc had been the universal carrier of recorded music, having quickly superseded wax cylinders when sound recording became possible in the late 1800s. But two important things happened in the middle of the last century: record companies started using tape for studio recordings, and the Long Playing record arrived on the scene.

Both of these developments offered significant improvements in sound quality, both as to the quality of the actual recordings which could be faithfully captured for later replay, and in the elimination of much of the background noise which had gone hand in hand with 78s.

The familiar sound of frying eggs and bacon - the sizzle and crackle of 78s - could largely have been eliminated. In the late 1920s companies such as Columbia in Britain were issuing 78s pressed in a material which offered a much quieter surface that their contemporaries. In the last days of 78s many were pressed in vinyl (the same as LPs) and surely this could have been introduced much sooner. World War 2 was partly to blame (shellac was in short supply and recycled material wasn’t exactly pure) but also a certain amount of ‘grit’ was added at times to make 78s more durable and last longer.

Whatever the reasons (and cost must have been another consideration), the material from which most 78s were pressed was noisy, but strangely the human ear seemed able to filter it out so that listeners only heard what they wanted to hear. Also, for some perverse reason, the background noise from acoustic gramophones (with those incredibly heavy soundboxes) was less noticeable than from electric record players.

But when LPs (and to a lesser extent 45s) took over, comparisons with the older 78s highlighted the imperfections, which people regarded as no longer being acceptable.

This lengthy introduction is all leading up to the point in the early 1990s when latest developments such as the British invention CEDAR made it possible (and affordable) for record companies to start processing old recordings to extract the music, and leave the unwanted noise behind. The 50-year copyright rule in Britain also helped, because by the end of the 20th century virtually all of the 78rpm repertoire was now available to anyone who wanted to clean up and repackage vintage recordings from the past.

For the sake of accuracy, it should be mentioned that the hiss from tape recordings, and the crackles and plops from well-played LPs, can also benefit from the likes of CEDAR.

The big companies who owned the original recordings were among the first to embrace the new technology, although their enthusiasm waned as the 1990s progressed. Today it is largely the smaller independent companies who are making the running, and producing some of the best results. I suppose we should always remember that commercial companies cannot continue without profits, and their CDs of reissues must appeal to purchasers. If a touch of reverb can ‘liven up’ a dull recording and make it more appealing to record buyers, we should hardly be surprised if producers make this choice. Perhaps it is a choice between preserving a recording accurately for historical purposes, or simply making it sound enjoyable for today’s CD purchasers.

The technology is progressing at an astonishing rate. Once it could cost over £100 to process a 3-minute 78rpm disc; today anyone with a personal computer (and a little basic technical knowledge) can afford to buy the software which can process old recordings to an acceptable standard.

We can all remember the vintage LPs from the 1970s, where the method of ‘improving’ the sound quality of 78s (usually on dance band recordings) was to reduce the treble to mask the hiss and crackle. Unfortunately this removed much of the ‘bite’ in the music as well - some records sounded as though you were hearing them with a cushion stuffed inside your loudspeaker.

Today almost anything is possible ... and now we get to the real reason for this article.

The big question being asked by those with ears to appreciate the difference is: how far should today’s sound engineers go in carrying out the restoration of old records?

Should one merely try to remove some, or all of the background noise? Should a little echo be added here and there to try and ‘liven up’ dull, or dry recordings? Pre-war microphones and studios had their limitations (remember electrical recordings only arrived in the mid-1920s), and such shortcomings often become more obvious when background noise is eliminated. And on the subject of noise, should all hiss and crackle be completely removed? Sometimes this can distort the music, and result in an unreal sound from the orchestra and singers.

Through letters and comments to this and other magazines, I have become increasingly aware that record buyers are now paying far more attention to the expertise and style of the top sound engineers. Each and every one of them seem to have their strong supporters and occasionally their critics. Sometimes it can depend upon whether you normally listen on headphones or through loudspeakers. It may sound obvious, but the best sound reproduction systems can occasionally spoil listening pleasure, because any shortcomings may become more apparent.

I have therefore invited several of the top sound restorers from around the world to let me have their comments, for the benefit of readers of Journal Into Melody, and I am pleased that several have taken considerable trouble in their replies. We now print the first two responses that came in from two respected sound engineers; more will follow in March 2002.

Graham Newton:

My approach to the subject can be boiled down to a very simple rule... The goal of audio restoration should be to come as close as possible to what would have been heard if you could have stood in the studio on the day the recording was made, limitations of the recording medium itself being taken into account.

In other words, an acoustic recording will NEVER be able to sound as good as even a relatively poor electrical recording, all else being equal, simply because of the technical limitation of the two mediums. In the acoustic recording, the extended low and high frequencies of the electrical process simply do not exist on the medium, and there is no way to extract what is not there in the first place. With the limitations of the media being understood, one can then strive to reach the best that the media was capable of, consistent with my stated goal of audio restoration. The ultimate object would be to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, but since that is not likely possible, at least, a pretty good replica of the silk purse should be attempted!

There are some modern tricks that can be employed to improve the listenability of the original material, but none of these should interfere with listening through to the original recording, to the degree that the media allows. Some of these tricks involve surgical equalization to remove resonances hums or rumble in the original. Other equalization is done to improve the sound of instruments as much as the media limitations will allow, providing the restoration engineer has a good familiarity with what live instruments should sound like.

Adding reverberation is definitely NOT permitted in the goals of audio restoration... it wasn't there in the original recording, and should not be added after the fact. Some personal advantages that I have, are a long experience in the recording field with RCA Victor, and the broadcast field with three major Canadian radio stations, both AM and FM. Additionally, doing recordings of symphony orchestras, particularly Orchestra Toronto, a 105 piece community orchestra here in Toronto. There is no substitute for being able to walk around the orchestra during rehearsals and listening to the various instruments played by excellent musicians. This gives the knowledge of the sound that you want to achieve in the restoration process.

Usually, you can focus on one instrument, a soloist perhaps, and equalize to the true sound of that instrument... if you can do that, then mostly everything else will fall in place. Granted, you may not be able to get all the overtones of the instruments, depending on the medium used to make the recording.

The last part of audio restoration is like the image in a dirty mirror... clean the mirror and the image becomes clear and sharp. Noise reduction can be thought of as cleaning the mirror, that is, removing clicks pops, crackle and hiss noises on the media that stand between you and the studio sound. The success of this part is very dependent on the recording and the media itself. The ear hears certain "cues" that tell the mind what it is listening to, and you cannot necessarily remove ALL the noise, because attempting to do so usually results in losing the natural "cues" and adding unwanted artifacts of the processing that are less desirable than the noise that was to be removed.

The experts in this field have learned this and will stop before damage is done to the music. Unfortunately, there are many so-called "producers" out there who persist in demanding that ALL the noise be removed, resulting in dull, lifeless music... and everyone has heard the sad examples of these problems... there's just no accounting for taste.

Alan Bunting:

For me, the "rules of restoration" so far as (electrically recorded) 78s are concerned are quite straightforward. The aim should be to reproduce what the original recording engineer heard on the loudspeaker in the control room. This means removing the unwanted noises introduced by the recording / reproducing medium which for 78s means clicks, crackles, hiss and, in some cases, hum. Any temptations to "enhance" or "improve" the sound should be resisted although, as I will attempt to explain, it is sometimes permissible to "tweak" certain aspects of the sound which may have suffered as a result of the restoration.

Whatever certain record companies and restorers might tell you, removal of ALL of the background noise is impossible without harming the music and should never be attempted. Systems such as CEDAR used in conjunction with skilled manual editing can remove all clicks and crackles from recordings without affecting the music but, in the case of shellac 78s, usually leave behind a noise which I choose to call "shash" – a mixture of hiss and other noises caused by the shellac and whatever fillers were used in its mix. Depending on the frequencies it contains a certain amount of shash can be removed (sometimes quite a lot) using various computer processes but, as it contains a wide range of frequencies, such removal inevitably affects the music to a greater or lesser degree. This is why some highly regarded restorers do not go further than the CEDAR stage with the result that, although their work is usually more "musical" than that of others, the small amount of noise in the background means that some record company executives feel they aren’t getting value for money and insist that further "restoration" is done to remove every vestige of background noise, usually with dire results.

When even a small amount of the shash is removed, then inevitably the music suffers to some degree and it is here I feel that a judicious amount of carefully applied "tweaking" is sometimes justified. A little "presence" may be applied using parametric equalisation and, in some circumstances, a little reverberation may be added as the "ambience" of a recording is usually the first thing to suffer during restoration. However, in my opinion, this reverb must be carefully chosen to match that of the original recording and MUST be monophonic – the practice of certain record companies to swamp carefully restored recordings with stereo reverberation is, to my mind, deplorable.

There are also "restorers" who think that they can considerably improve on the original and not only add stereo reverb but carry out what I can only describe as "mutilation" of recordings by means of considerable re-equalisation which actually changes the balance between the orchestral instruments. I believe that, apart from the noise introduced by the medium, the restored sound should be as close as possible to what the original artist / producer / recording engineer intended. I consider changing it to be supreme arrogance but, as there is undoubtedly a considerable number of record buyers who like this kind of thing, this practice will undoubtedly continue and who am I to say it is wrong. However, for those of us who do not approve, I think that it should be made clear on such CDs that what they contain is not the original sound but the "what I think it should have sounded like" creation of the restoration engineer.

Although this piece is concerned primarily with the restoration of 78s, I must touch on the "restoration" of more recent mono material originally recorded on tape. These recordings rarely suffered from the limitations in the recording process which is the usual excuse offered by record companies to justify "enhancing" recordings originally made on 78s, so why some companies consider it necessary to add stereo reverberation etc. to these carefully crafted productions is beyond me. It seems impossible to justify and, in my opinion, is an insult to those who produced the original recording.

As for those who claim to be able to turn mono recordings into stereo, words fail me! The laws of physics make this impossible and anyone making such claims is not a reputable restorer but a fraud and such productions should be avoided at all costs.

At the time of writing (September) there is considerable correspondence on this topic on several e-mail groups on the Internet. One statement in particular summed it all up for me "Returning a performance to its original sound is restoration; adding "sweetening" in an effort to make it better than it is falls in the category of meddling."

On Sunday 22 January 1967, at 2.30pm, the BBC Light Programme broadcast the first programme in a new series featuring Robert Farnon conducting the Radio Orchestra : "Farnon in Concert". Shortly before the first show, Robert Farnon gave a fascinating interview to ‘Crescendo’, which was reprinted in ‘Journal Into Melody’. Over 35 years later in 2003, we are pleased to give our present-day members the opportunity to read what Bob had to say.

Robert Farnon : talking about "Farnon in Concert", and much more

It’s a great pleasure to do this new weekly BBC series, which I believe is going to be heard each Sunday until the end of June. I’m looking forward to its run. Actually, I come over from my home in Guernsey every fortnight. On the Tuesday we usually do all the script, because there’s a lot of talking throughout the programme, between the visiting composer, the guest singer, the regular compere, John Dunn, and myself. We do most of that work at Broadcasting House, and it is cut into the show later. Then on the Wednesday, from 2.00 in the afternoon until 10 p.m., we record the music for one programme. On Thursday we do a second complete show.

That allows me to be home for one full week, rather than come over each week. Because the travelling’s a bit of a bind, you know. If you have to make it every week, you just get here, do your work, go home, spend one day and come back again. That’s how it was with the previous series on BBC, and I’m glad that they’ve been able to arrange it this way - thanks to the producer, Vernon Lawrence.

I worked with the Radio Orchestra last year, when we did two or three isolated programmes. Just occasionally I came in, conducted the orchestra and brought a few arrangements. Prior to that, I worked with the string section in a couple of programmes. On the whole, it’s a first-class orchestra. And they’re magnificent readers. They read this music just at sight - which is a godsend when we have such limited rehearsal time.

The Radio Orchestra has some very good soloists in it - the leader, violinist John Jezzard, Bobby Lamb (trombone), Jimmy Chester (alto). An excellent Canadian tenor player - Art Ellefson.

And, of course, Malcolm Cecil on bass and Jackie Dougan on drums are first-rate. Then we have Bobby Midgeley come in for the afternoon session, playing all the extra percussion wonderfully well. Individually, there’s an awful lot of talent there. Collectively, they’ve been together long enough now to have some terrific teamwork. Which you don’t get in the session boys so much. Sometimes you do - if the same four trombones or four trumpets arrive at a date, but quite often it isn’t so. I think the only real difference is there are probably a few more virtuosos among session players that do recordings and film work.

As a unit, this is a top-class light orchestra, which can play almost any style of music. We’ve done everything from small Dixieland jazz and beat stuff up to a movement from Dvorak’s "New World" Symphony. Which isn’t bad going, is it? And everything you could think of in-between.

It’s certainly a great help to know that there are these outstanding jazz players in the orchestra. Then I can dig into my library and say: "Well, yes, this’ll come off well, because it has a tenor solo, and we’ve got a terrific tenor player in the band." Or "Here’s a speciality for the alto," or whatever. It helps me in programming the music, to know what I can use.

As a matter of interest, Johnny Dankworth is going to be a guest in one of the programmes, and I’m writing a saxophone piece for him. But I must mention something else here - this originated from a suggestion by the producer, who thought it might be an idea if I wrote a little thing for Johnny. And, funnily enough, I’d been starting a serious composition for another alto player, also a fellow-Canadian, Bob Burns. But a major work - a saxophone concerto, which will feature Bob playing tenor, alto and soprano. He’ll play one of these instruments on each of three movements.

I must say that the general standard of musicianship in this country is very high. Right after the war, when I started doing some vocal accompaniments at Decca and working with the Queen’s Hall Light Orchestra, I found that the reading was absolutely staggering. I’d never come across musicians who could sight–read so well. Back home it would take us probably twice the time. And it’s the same today.

Where American musicians tend to excel, I think, is in interpretation. Also, most of the American bands we hear are permanently–organised outfits, so they have more time to get a good ensemble sound. Ted Heath’s band, being permanent, got a wonderful ensemble sound. But in session work, where we’re going to do an album of jazz tunes, or whatever, we only have so much time to get these things done. In other words, the brass or saxophone section can’t take the music away and ‘wood-shed’ it, as we call it, for half an hour - just get into a corner and practice it, phrase it, change it and chop it about. As, say, Ted Heath’s band does - and the Americans.

It’s always been my opinion that we could get the same ensemble sound from the ordinary bands here. Ted’s was not a soloists’ band (not later on, anyway) but it was a great ensemble band. I remember, when I was with Geraldo, he allowed us to have a rehearsal of up to three or four hours, just wood-shedding one number. And, as a result, we got a great sound.

Being a perfectionist, I’m seldom completely happy about the sound. I think it’s a bit mean on my part - I shouldn’t be so selfish, always wanting everything to be perfect.

As for being a conductor, I conduct because I like conducting my own music. But I’m not really mad about actually conducting an orchestra. I much prefer writing. It was when I was in my teens in Toronto that the writing gradually took hold. From the time I was seven years old, I can remember music throughout the family. My father was a violinist; my mother played piano. My only sister was a jazz pianist, and my elder brother, Brian, was in a college band when he was twelve. I was eleven or twelve when I bought my first set of drums, just playing the bass drum and brass, and played trumpet for many years.

What happened was: I was on drums with my brother’s band, and it was very difficult to find brass players. The tenor saxophone player had an old cornet, which he gave to me as a present. So I started studying it, and taking lessons and I liked it very much. Then I used to play the second trumpet parts at the drums, just playing the bass drum and hi-hat cymbal with my feet, leaving my hands free to play the trumpet! In 1936 I joined the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, playing first trumpet for Percy Faith’s Orchestra. That was an entree for me, as far as writing was concerned, because I used to do some arranging for Percy, too. He wasn’t a vocal writer at the time, and I did his choir arrangements for him. When he left for America, I suppose I filled the gap, as it were. I took over, formed an orchestra and did a lot of conducting for CBC. But I would play as well. I didn’t give up playing until I came to Britain with the Canadian Army in 1944.

My original studies in writing were with a private teacher named Louis Wiseman. He was a pupil at a school in Prague at the same time as one of the Strauss family. A very good teacher, though not a good composer. He taught me the harmony, the counterpoint and the general theory of music. I took it over from there. And I didn’t write any popular music to speak of; I was just concerned in writing serious music. I wrote a symphonette for orchestra, then two symphonies and several orchestral works, an etude for trumpet, some piano pieces - and this was all before I came over here. It was when I was in Britain with the Canadian Band of the AEF that I became more involved in the light music side. As the conductor of a popular orchestra, which ours was, similar to those of Glenn Miller and George Melachrino, I wasn’t accented by the BBC as a serious musician: I remember sending my Second Symphony score to the BBC for review, and I never heard from them about it for three years. Finally I discovered the score in a little office in Shaftesbury Avenue, underneath a pile of manuscripts. It had been there, gathering dust, for all that time. I was more or less advised by the chap there that they didn’t even look at it, because it couldn’t possibly be good if it was written by a jazz musician.

This is a strange attitude, but it is true. And I think it still prevails today to a great extent. I’ve written one or two serious works recently: one is a "Rhapsody For Violin And Orchestra", which has been played at the Festival Hall, as well as all over Europe and in Canada. But, although it’s been submitted to them, it’s never been played by the BBC Serious Music Department at all. And that’s today.

Apart from the BBC, I find the same unawareness on the part of the symphony orchestras here, to whom my work has been submitted, but who have not used it. Yet the symphony orchestras abroad consider it worth including in their repertoire. My First Symphony was played by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy. So if it’s performed by one of the ten leading orchestras in the world, it should be good enough for the BBC.

The AEF Band was a full aggregation, including strings, but we didn’t have the best players. During the war the Canadian Army had several big entertainment units, and they used to send, say, tenor twelve-piece groups out on the Continent with a show. Some of them got up very close behind the lines. The cream of the professional musicians of Canada were in these units. And we were left in London with rather the second string of players.

Therefore, with our leading brass, woodwind and string players out entertaining the troops, we had great difficulty in competing with Miller - and Melachrino. But we had quite a good orchestra, because we were working a 9 to 5 routine nearly every day of the week. So what we lacked in skill, we made up for in ensemble playing and drilled musicianship, I suppose.

Anyway, it served as a launching point for me here. Of course, we were working in the BBC regularly and, shortly after the war, the Corporation offered me a series along the lines of the large orchestral music of the Canadian Army Band. That, incidentally, was on a Sunday afternoon, as this one is. It was called Journey Into Melody, and we followed it with another series, Melody Hour. Now we’ve either come full circle, or we’re turning the clock back 20 years - I don’t know what. But we’re doing the same thing, more or less, again. Though I think the styles have changed a bit.

It would be interesting, perhaps, for some people to know that a lot of the arrangements we’re playing in this present series are the ones we played in the original series 18-20 years ago. They’re not all new arrangements, by any means.

Unfortunately there’s no budget for arranging in the programme. I’m just pulling the suitable ones out of the book. And, according to the musicians, most of them still stand up. Which is nice to know.

My associations with jazz and jazz musicians go back to when I lived in Toronto. Of course, New York wasn’t very far away - just across the border. And we used to go over every possible weekend and sit in with some of these boys, just for a musical tonic. I first played with Dizzy Gillespie when he came through Toronto with Cab Calloway’s band. We used to have jam sessions afterwards and play like mad all night long, together with Chu Berry on tenor and Cozy Cole on drums. Dizzy played straight trumpet then - he didn’t have it sticking up in the air. He used to giggle when I played a jazz solo on cornet - he’d always played trumpet himself. In fact, I think it’s a nicer sound than flugelhorn, easier to control, with a better tone.

I used to sit in and play jazz choruses at Minton’s. Also at a place called the Trianon in Buffalo, which is even closer to Toronto. I used to work a 9 till 1 job at a Summer place near Niagara Falls. Our way of relaxing after the job every night was to nip over to Buffalo. It was only about an hour’s drive - we’d get back about 6.00 in the morning. At the Trianon, we played with some very interesting fellows from the old Don Redman Band, such as Jean Goldkette, Red Norvo and his brother, a drummer. Red’s wife, Mildred Bailey, was singing with the band. Those were very happy salad days.

It was just filling my need to play jazz - that was the only way to play it. Because there weren’t very many jazz musicians in my home town at the time. Not like there is now - we have Oscar Peterson in residence and, until recently, we also had Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen. But we didn’t then, so we had to go over the border for our jazz.

Any interest evidenced by jazz people like Quincy Jones in my present-day work doesn’t have anything to do with jazz, I don’t think. Probably, they just like some of the arrangements I’ve done on record. Harmonically, more than anything else, and perhaps the orchestral colours. I don’t think they listen much to the jazz side of it, because we don’t play very much. The orchestras we use are a little bit too large to play jazz. We attempt it - to try to find that elusive combination of jazz and symphonic. It’s terribly difficult, but a lot of people - Johnny Dankworth, John Lewis, Duke Ellington - are having a go, too. But on a big scale, with the 60-piece Radio Orchestra that you hear on Sundays, it’s not at all easy to move a band of that size in a swinging arrangement. Occasionally, though, it does happen.

Quincy Jones was with Philips Records for quite a long time, as an A and R man. We made about four or five albums together, including the one with Sarah Vaughan. I directed the orchestra; he was in the control room A and R-ing, as it were. I think that contract resulted from the fact that my orchestral music appealed to him. And he was interested in writing for the orchestra in that way -for the straighter instruments and strings. Not just the jazz side of it, which he had done for so many years. This, of course, is what he’s now putting into practice in his film scores.

It’s surprising how many of these jazz boys want to write for strings. I remember having a letter from Victor Feldman, saying he’d love to do some string writing, and asking if I’d give him a correspondence lesson or two. He sent over some examples; I sent back corrections, and so on. We just did it on a friendly basis, because we’re old pals, you know.

The same applied to Quincy. We used to have little chewing–the–fat sessions, when he would ask about string voicings and whatnot. Likewise the baritone player Sahib Shihab, who lives in Denmark. We had some friendly little get–togethers in Copenhagen. He would do a few bars, and we’d talk about it. And I think he learned more that way than he would trying to find some book which would instruct him along the appropriate lines.

Writing for strings is quite an art ….

To write for strings well is quite an art, I believe. A lot of people today are writing for strings the same way they would write for saxophones. And it sounds that way, you know, rather dull. They have one phrase for about eight bars with a big slur marked over it. But a violin can’t do that. He’ll run out of bow, even if the bow is 20 feet long. He couldn’t phrase that way.

In string writing, bowing is very important. That is, whether it’s an up-bow, a down-bow, or whatever. It requires a bit of study. So does the harp; that’s a most complicated instrument to write for.

Scoring for the straight woodwinds also calls for a little bit of skill. If it lies well for the instrument, the player will give it more, and it sounds better. If you put the part in front of them, and all the bowing is marked, all the dynamics and everything is there, it immediately sounds right on the first read-through. And, of course, that makes a musician feel good, too - the fact that he got through, perhaps, a difficult string piece the first time. But he couldn’t do that if the bowing was all upside-down. It would make him look a bit of a Charlie, when he’s not.

The string writing, I think, has had a lot to do with the jobs I’ve been asked to do. Because most of these big dance bands-cum-string orchestras have rather uninteresting things to play. Even Glenn Miller, when he had that magnificent string section during the war - he didn’t use it. They were playing long notes all the time, instead of interesting string parts.

Writing for singers? I’ve never enjoyed it to any great extent. I like working with the orchestra by itself. I’ve written for many singers, and I don’t ever remember one side becoming a hit. I did string arrangements for Vera Lynn till I was blue in the face, and never a hit. Then she decided to get someone else, Roland Shaw, and the very first number he wrote for her was a hit! I just didn’t have any luck. Although the Sarah Vaughan record came off. But that was almost orchestral writing, anyway. We had the Danish choir, the orchestra, and Sarah herself is like a musical instrument. She’s so intelligent; she listens to the accompaniment and just weaves in like an ad lib tenor or whatever.

As a matter of fact, Sinatra is like that, too. He knows just where to slide in. But on our ill-fated album, into which I put a lot of work, he just wasn’t in very good voice. He’d just returned from a world tour, and was doing concerts at the Festival Hall each night. He, too, claimed that his voice was tired. Therefore he wouldn’t allow the record to be released in America, because the singing would have done him more harm than good. So he rested his voice after that, I think, and about five or six months later he made an album, on which his singing was much improved. Yes, it would be nice to do another one with him if it’s not too late.

Tony Bennett and I have been trying to make an album for years. Just recently he asked if I could come over to New York to make one. And I couldn’t, because I was just beginning the BBC Farnon In Concert series.

Incidentally, Tony has recorded the floperoo Eurovision Contest song that I wrote - "Country Girl". Apparently it’s become quite a hit in America since its release there. He’s also incorporated it into his act at the Copacabana, just accompanied by a harpist; which would be interesting. We’re hoping to have him as a guest on the Sunday radio show, when he comes over in May. So we might have a chance to hear his performance of my song then.

But I haven’t done much songwriting - no talent for it, really. "Country Girl" took me about three months to write; it was a great struggle. I enjoyed doing it, but no one should take that long writing a song, I don’t think.

When it comes to arranging, even if it’s just a pop song, I use the same form that I would for a serious work. I have, more or less, an idea of the format of what I’m going to do with it, but I never know how it will develop. And I like developing arrangements of any kind. They should be developed somewhere. Otherwise, it could be just another stock printed arrangement. What happens is: I lay out, say, a complete four- or five-line sketch right from the beginning. Then, when you score it, that’s the joyful part. Adding the gingerbread. The hard, creative work has been done in the sketch; you have your framework, as it were. Therefore, you can sit back and it’s just like writing a letter; then you add the different little colours and flourishes as you go along.

My approach to composition has always been the same, really. I like to think it’s improved a bit, because I’m certainly learning every day. But I know what I like to do. I still want to write serious music, because I enjoy it so much.

In 1962 I wrote two large orchestral works, one to showcase Oscar Peterson and his Trio and one for Dizzy Gillespie, which we were to record in Berlin. And I wanted to use six or seven lead men from London, not being too familiar with the musicians in Germany, to make sure that at least the leaders of each section were going to carry us through. It was just as well I did, because, although we found a wonderful string section over there, at that time the brass and saxophone players weren’t too good. They’re much better now - at least there are more available.

However, the British men were informed by the Musicians’ Union that, if they proceeded with this recording involving American musicians, disciplinary action would be taken. And when Dizzy, Oscar and Norman Granz, who was promoting this album for Verve, arrived in Berlin, they each received telegrams from the American Federation of Musicians. They all stood to be expelled from the Union if they carried on with the project. Of course, that scrubbed the whole thing.

The reason we went to Berlin was that, if it were to be done in New York, it would cost the record company a fortune, what with the travelling expenses and everything. We had about 75 musicians in one section of a movement, plus Oscar’s Trio. Then plus Dizzy. Whereas the Union fees and general costs in Berlin would be much lower.

So Norman wondered if we could do it in England, but that wasn’t possible, either. It was decided to shelve it for the time being, and, if I came to New York later on, perhaps they could do the Dizzy side of the album. Then the Oscar side at another time, and spread the expense over like that.

Meanwhile, Dizzy and Oscar both joined other companies. I joined Philips, who didn’t allow me to work for another company, because I was under exclusive contract. Eventually I got permission to do the LP on Verve—but something else happened. Dizzy went to the Far East, I think. Some situation always came along to stop it materialising.

But I still hope we can do it some time. I might even orchestrate it for a smaller combination. Perhaps that would give us a chance, financially, to record it, without having to bring in a gallery of strings. String players are very expensive these days. I’d certainly like to revise some of it. By now it would be a dated work: it’s four years old.

I do think that jazz dates very quickly. It always will, somehow. The same as improvisations in classical works; I think they date. In the old days, concertos included a cadenza which was to be improvised by the particular player. I imagine that, if what he did then was played today by Rubinstein, it would sound very dated. Anything that’s improvised dates. Listening to the Goodman band now, although it’s great and brilliant, it sounds terribly corny to me, when you compare it with the swinging arrangements they play today.

Some of the things they do in jazz today really amaze me. Look at Dizzy - the way he has improved. When I used to play with him, he was even worse than I was - dreadful player. But now he’s great, and I’ve told him so. He often says: "I’m glad you gave up the cornet, man!"

When I played jazz, I didn’t have the incredible facility of, say, Al Hirt. I don’t think anyone else did in that era. In my opinion, the techniques in jazz have progressed to such a fantastic degree of excellence that it’s almost impossible to believe.

Footnote: Remember that Robert Farnon gave this interview towards the end of 1966, and we have repeated it here without any updating. Of course, we now know that he was soon to achieve his wish of making some fine albums with Tony Bennett, and that LP with Frank Sinatra is now far more highly regarded than it was at the time.

Gavin Sutherland

The Brilliant Young Conductor who has recorded so much fine Light Music in recent years, is interviewed by ROB BARNETT

RB: Where were you born?

Gavin Sutherland: I was born in Chester-le-Street, County Durham. What was your family background?

Father was a factory inspector, mother a secretary for the local Council. In the North East arts were considered inappropriate as a profession – you were essentially bred as factory fodder – light engineering and so forth – and I couldn’t face that.

Were your parents or family at all musical? Well, I think it’s fair to say that we were a family that appreciated music, and the house was certainly full of music, but the only direct musical contact was my mother. She played organ at our local church but stopped before I was born (and actually stopped playing completely as a result). My father liked to sing around the house, and at many of the "go-as-you-pleases" – a forerunner to karaoke in many a working men’s club! My sister liked to sing (though used to regularly slide down in pitch from the key in which she started!!) and learned to dance, and so was a regular in several operatic societies. Your education ... I started to play our piano, unbidden, by ear, at the age of three. This slowly developed through the years, although I was still branded as self taught. It’s almost right to say I could read music before I could read, although I think my musical interests needed harnessing. Thus it was that I was given lessons on the trombone (we had no piano teacher in our education authority) from the age of seven. This got me into the county youth bands, and I found this wholly to my liking. I did all of my grades on trombone (all distinction, I’m embarrassed to confess!) but just let the piano wend its way of its own accord. My real early musical education was practical – sitting in the bands and orchestras – watching, remembering, absorbing. To this end I wish to pay tribute to two of my mentors from this time – Derek Scollard, my first trombone teacher, who arranged and conducted one of the bands I worked with. He gave me the impetus to start dabbling with arrangement, although my first few efforts (the first dates from the age of 7!) were lamentable…but I stuck at it and that’s where my love of writing and arranging music was born. The other leading light at the time was the late Jack Stobbs – a rather eccentric and totally fascinating teacher. I think he knew my interests and focused on them – plus his love of English music opened up my ears to the music of Walton, Elgar, Warlock, Finzi, Arnold, and so on. Added to that his encouragement and energy got me "to the next stage" as it were – a stage that is often difficult in a musician’s life, where one battles with the soul and, as Dave Allen famously put it, "the braincells become haemorrhoids" and Neanderthal tendencies creep in!! To this end, I didn’t really have time to notice that, as my quest for more experience led me to local amateur operatic societies and choral societies, first as accompanist then as conductor (I musically directed my first show at the age of 11, and, whilst the participants can’t take you seriously at that stage, at least it got me moving in the direction of conducting.). On the amateur operatic front I think I worked on over fifty productions until I went to university, and all the while it got me working with people. The music business doesn’t just stop with the total grip on thorough knowledge of your craft – social and people skills are profoundly important too, and I’m glad to say I made most of my mistakes and received most of my knocks when I was young enough for it not to hurt! I do have to say my other school studies possibly suffered a little but I was apparently oblivious to that. I did get a lot of jealous stick from my peers at school, and found solace in being able to lock myself away in a music practice room and simply play. It’s still a comfort blanket to this day! Have literary sources influenced your style or approach? You mean musical books? I had lots of them – Frederick Prausnitz’s "Score and Podium", William Lovelock’s "The Elements of Orchestral Arrangement", Piston’s famous orchestration tome, Adkins’ "Treatise on the Military Band", and so on. I have to be honest and say that although I tried to devour them, thinking it would be a bigger help than it subsequently was (!), I found the real way to learn for me was simply to practise and absorb other conductors. As for arranging and composition, scores were the great textbooks to me. Anything currently in our repertoire in the bands, full scores of classical and contemporary works, all of these came hurtling through our local library at a rate of knots! What direction did your musical studies take? Well, I tried for Durham University for my mother (who was determined I should get a job as a music teacher – something I think I could never ever have done!) but, as I only had qualifications as a trombonist on paper they couldn’t possibly consider me. I even offered to go and play for them, but that wouldn’t work! Newcastle said they didn’t really want to take many local students, as they were going more for foreign applicants (charming!). So it was that I headed south to see what was on offer. I was offered unconditionals by several of the main music colleges, but actually settled on Huddersfield University (Polytechnic for my first two years there) as it seemed to offer the most adaptable course and also pleased my mother as being "not London". Can you tell us more about your musical training? Huddersfield was a real eye-opener. Amongst many fine musicians, all of whom like me had applied and got in on their merits, I felt suddenly rather nervous. From the safe and cosy atmosphere of regular fun work in the North East it now all took on a more serious feel. As it turned out, I think I matured considerably at Huddersfield, both musically and personally. Some teachers became good close friends, one got me my first regular professional job (I had had a bit of freelance playing, conducting and arranging just before I got to Huddersfield, but not on a regular basis). I suppose I was counted as "a funny ‘un" since some of my teachers did not want to undo what I’d achieved musically and technically so far in my life. As a result I was taught more about interpretation as a pianist (with the marvellous Bernard Robertson), pushing out the boundaries of composition (with Peter J.Lawson – a real hero) and performance development as a conductor (first with John Gulley and then with another of my key influences in life – John Longstaff). But what of the trombone? Well, I’d had enough – I’d got a new instrument but it wasn’t making any difference at all – I really knew I wasn’t good enough, so it went back in its case just after I turned 19. I must have done something right, for I ended up getting a first, two prizes (the Krucynski Prize for Piano and the Davidson Prize for Distinction brought to the Institution) and, through John Longstaff, regular work as a pianist with Northern Ballet Theatre. To end up playing a piano concerto in my last end-of-year concert (Gershwin in F, of course!) must have angered many of the fine pianists in my year, for which I apologise, but I had left Huddersfield with a much better idea of my future, thanks to an assured and energetic training. As a conductor are you associated with a particular orchestra? This is actually a follow on from the question about training, since one of Northern Ballet Theatre’s then staff conductors was about to leave (this was about 1994/5) and, thanks to both John Longstaff (their Head of Music at the time) and John Pryce-Jones (their Music Director), I began to conduct more and more for the company (I had started playing piano for them during my second year at university), finally being appointed as a full-time staff conductor in 1995. My introduction to the world of ballet had occurred much earlier, playing for a ballet school for five years during my teens. Funny thing, fate… I did a very large share of the conducting with the company during this time, eager to develop and full of enthusiasm. After three and a half more years I decided to move on, and thought of London as the place to base myself, it being the epicentre of arts in the country. During my last season with NBT I had made my first CD – "Brian Kay’s British Light Music Discoveries" for ASV, with the Royal Ballet Sinfonia. I seemed to hit it off with them, and, on learning I had conducted for ballet, they offered me performances of "The Nutcracker" with Birmingham Royal Ballet at the end of that year. This then led to a current association with this fine orchestra, in the ballet pit, occasionally on the concert platform, but mainly in the recording studio. The funny thing is I form associations with many orchestras (the joke being "Gavin is always invited to conduct the orchestra at least twice – the second time to apologise!") – a recent one being with the Australian Pops Philharmonic Orchestra, for whom I’ve arranged and conducted a lot. I also became associated with the Royal New Zealand Ballet, and have conducted significantly for them. My associations are always truly meant, and strong bonds are often important to maintain a stability in a hectic life such as mine. Given a free hand which ten works .. previously unrecorded would you want to record. and why in each case?

1. Three Rivers Fantasy by Arthur Wilkinson – as a child I adored this piece, played as it was at the start of the day’s transmission on Tyne-Tees Television. A bright and joyous celebration of North Eastern folksongs and tunes, the printed music is sadly lost (like so many works). I have reconstructed it, along with TV startup pieces from the other ITV regions, for an ongoing project to record all of them on CD. They really do reflect a cross-section of the biggest names in British Music.
2. The Mansell Concerto by Kenneth Leslie Smith – I came upon this piece during my early years as a radio listener (we had Radio 2 on until about 3 then the television was turned on – what better musical upbringing could a person have?) with the late Bob Docker and the BBC Concert Orchestra, and found it really fascinating, with some lovely harmonic shifts.
3. Symphony by Eric Rogers – I found this score amongst Eric’s papers whilst researching "The Carry On Album" and it looks a most impressive piece. I must say that we are actually going to record this in September (2002), so slowly but surely the ambition gets there!
4. Westward Ho! by Hastings Mann – Similar reasoning to (1), but used for the (then) Westward TV area during the 1960s.
5. Devonshire Dances by Paul Lewis – I don’t think these have been properly recorded (they’ve certainly been performed a lot) but I am an enormous fan of Paul’s music (and we remain close friends) and these sparkling pieces for harp and chamber orchestra are really beautifully worked. Paul’s gift for melody must come from the need in library music to establish the mood, right from bar one. A rare talent.
6. The Phoenix Tree by Philip Lane – Philip has been, without a doubt, the single most important person in my career thus far. His production skills are fantastic, and we’ve developed a real rapport in the studio and away from work too. I am a very big fan of his music, since it always screams optimism! His choral and orchestral writing has been long acknowledged as excellent, and this piece, written for performance by Aled Jones in 1990, is exemplary.
7. Fantasia on "Auld Lang Syne" by Ernest Tomlinson – It was Ernest that brought Philip and I together in the first place, and for that I’m eternally grateful. Added to that I’ve always enjoyed Ernest’s music and the generosity and warmth of his spirit. I first heard this piece in a concert conducted by my old friend John Wilson at the Royal College of Music, and was captivated by just how many tunes fit with the New Year anthem, and each other! There is also a version for two pianos (and, most importantly, two turner-overs!) but I’d dearly love to commit this piece to disc as it is a work of contrapuntal genius!
8. Pastorale Montage by Gideon Fagan – This piece is actually recorded on an old Chappell music library disc, but was used as music for one of the old BBC TV Interlude films, depicting a slowly turning windmill. A gorgeous miniature which fitted the pictures so well.
9. London Medley by Arthur Wilkinson – written for the interval of the 1968 Eurovision Song Contest from the Albert Hall, and conducted by Norrie Paramor, this piece is delightful and very approachable. It also continues with my interest in Arthur Wilkinson and was in fact composed in the last year of his life – a warning to workaholic musicians everywhere.
10. Selection from "Over She Goes" (Billy Mayerl, arr. George Zalva (Cruikshank)). I had known Billy Mayerl’s music for many years as a pianist, but had little idea that he had written songs and musicals also. This musical starred the wonderful Stanley Lupino, a comedian whose work I was introduced to by one of my best friends, Martin Fenton. Typical of show selections, it actually does heighten a lot of fine tunes with exquisite nuance of orchestration – something lost in some arrangements these days.

What would be your advice to a person considering conducting as a career? Go for it. The business is so diverse now that there are so many different avenues to pursue. Alongside the problem of gaining experience comes the fact that orchestral musicians can come over as the biggest cynics in the world. The only way to handle them is to be yourself and be clear. Technique can be taught, but people skills only come with trial and error. You have touched on this a little already but what qualities are necessary in a great conductor? This ties in with the previous question – being down to earth, energetic and enthusiastic, being able to breathe with the orchestra (Henry Wood often said that the best conductors would be string players – I rather disagree, as breathing in phrasing comes far more naturally with the techniques of a wind player). Along with this comes all the stick technique you can muster in back up to keeping things calm and easy to follow – all the greats had this gift. What is your attitude to the recording studio? One of my favourite working environments. The focus of concentration every time the light goes on is a feeling I adore. To know that at the end of a session your thumbprint is on every piece on that disc (or soundtrack, or whatever). The other thing is consistency. The preferred method of working for the discs I’ve done is to try and get down two complete takes, then go back and cover any "patches" that may need tightening. To do this one must feel the music since if a patch is to be dropped in to a track the tempi must match, as must the feel. The many discs I’ve done with the Royal Ballet Sinfonia in particular are blessed by such fine playing and a really comfortable atmosphere in the studio that rehearsal can be kept on the economical side. When things start running against the clock, though, and we are pushed for time, the whole attitude shifts to sorting things out immediately in the most time-saving way possible, whilst trying to keep calm. How did you become involved with ASV and other record companies? It started with Ernest Tomlinson bringing Philip Lane and I together in late 1996. I possessed the scores to the "Carry On" films and Philip, already well respected as a record producer, told me he was keen to record a disc of them. We met for the first time at his house in Cheltenham, and further discussions took place in London, Bath and even in a hotel in Batley! The record companies he had tried thought the idea too parochial and so the idea was shelved for a while. Meanwhile Philip had began work on a series of British Light Music discs for ASV. I think Kenneth Alwyn wasn’t available, and Philip, having seen my work on the ballet podium and knowing my love of light music, asked me if I was available. Thus it was that I took two days off work at NBT (the first I had taken off in three years) to go to London and record the disc (this was April 1998). One disc led to another, which led to another, and so on…"The Carry On Album" finally got made in February 1999! What are your recording plans? I’ve just done a disc of Matthew Curtis’s music (my 30^th disc made to date) with the Royal Ballet Sinfonia at Whitfield Street in London (with a man of whom I must make special mention – Mike Ross-Trevor, award-winning and highly respected recording engineer, and above all a very nice guy!) and then I made the cast recording of my musical "Little Women" (which enjoyed a short run at the Bloomsbury Theatre during July). The next projects are a further volume of British String Miniatures (I think it’s Volume 3 or 4!) and an interesting disc of the works of British film composers, but works they wrote for the concert hall. We feature works by Leighton Lucas, Bruce Montgomery, Anthony Collins, Eric Rogers and others. Other discs planned for the future include the music of Montague Phillips, Charles Williams, a tantalising disc known at the minute by the working title "The Denham Concertos" after the famous film studios (pieces written very much with the success of the "Warsaw Concerto" in the film "Dangerous Moonlight" in mind) , a possible disc of the music of Angela Morley, oh, and Carry On volume two! Have you been steered away from some composers by record companies? Not really. The record companies listen to people such as Philip, with his thorough research of suitable works for balanced discs, and his astute business skills make their recording viable. ....Or to some composers by record companies Safest to say "see above"! What would be your ten desert island CDs and why? Easy!

1. The Dream of Gerontius conducted by Sir John Barbirolli – simple – my favourite choral piece, my favourite conductor.
2. "The Great British Experience" – an EMI compilation by David Ades that is a real bedrock disc for any light music collector.
3. "The Sound Gallery" – it’s not all 40s and 50s light music that I like, you know!
4. "Brian Kay’s British Light Discoveries" – partly to remind me of that very first session, partly because of the moving nature of some of the pieces we recorded, like Maurice Johnstone’s "Tarn Hows" and the beautiful "Little Suite" of Richard Rodney Bennett
5. "The Carl Stalling Project" – all film and cartoon music fascinates me – the intricacies of it leave me spellbound at times. Stalling was the master, and his witty scores always make me chuckle.
6. That Conifer double-disc set of the music of Robert Farnon – another hero, with such a genial style that any light music lover can only marvel at his gifts.
7. Hoffnung’s Music Festivals – A sense of humour in music, whether in the writing or in the performance, is very important to me. I love to laugh, and I think light music has to "smile" – there was no one more keen to see it do so than cartoonist Gerard Hoffnung.
8. Any disc by Sergio Mendes and Brasil ’66 – I also like Latin music, and the sultry pulse of the bossa nova. Mendes’ arrangements were fantastic and provoke a really exciting reaction in my body.
9. Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys – perfect production values, beautiful songs, excellent performances.
10. ANY CD of Eric Coates – for preference I’d have to say the first of Malcolm Nabarro’s series on ASV, as the performance of the "London Suite" is the best I have ever heard.

Oh, and my luxury would be a bag of crisps! GS Editor: this interview appears courtesy of the British Music Society. Readers who would like to know more about the British Music Society are invited to write to 7 Tudor Gardens, Upminster, Essex, RM14 3DE, or you can e-mail Rob Barnett at: GAVIN SUTHERLAND Selective Discography

ASV CD WHL 2113 BRIAN KAY’S BRITISH LIGHT MUSIC DISCOVERIES: The Roots of Heaven (Sir Malcolm Arnold); Suite of Scottish Dances (William Alwyn); An Impression on a Windy Day (Sir Malcolm Sargent); The Glass Slipper (Clifton Parker); The Coloured Counties (James Langley); The Barber of Seville Goes to the Devil (Gordon Jacob); Tarn Hows (Maurice Johnstone); Two Worlds (Alan Langford); Little Suite (Sir Richard Rodney Bennett). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA ASV CD WHL 2119 THE "CARRY ON" ALBUM: Music from the "Carry On" films composed by Bruce Montgomery and Eric Rogers. CITY OF PRAGUE PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA ASV CD WHL 2126 BRITISH LIGHT MUSIC DISCOVERIES Vol. 2: Little Suite No. 4 (Sor Malcolm Arnold); The River (Wiloliam Blezard); Traditional Hornpipe Suite (Adrian Cruft); Rossini on Ilkla Moor (Eric Fenby); Wexford Bells (Raymond Warren); The Path Across the Moors (Arthur Butterworth); An Ayrshire Serenade (Anthony Hedges); An English Overture (Paul Lewis); Suite of Cotswold Folkdances (Philip Lane). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA MARCO POLO 8225161 BILL WORLAND: Shopping Spree, Latin Lover, In the Shadow of Vesuvius, Pepita, Scottish Flower, Sombrero, Brighton Belle, etc. RTE CONCERT ORCHESTRA MARCO POLO 8225162 PERCY WHITLOCK: The Feast of St. Benedict, Ballet of the Wood Creatures, Wessex Suite, Music for Orchestra, etc. RTE CONCERT ORCHESTRA ASV CD WHL 2131 BRITISH LIGHT MUSIC DISCOVERIES Vol. 4: Partita (John Rutter); Suite Française (Sir Richard Rodney Bennett); The Padstow Lifeboat (Sir Malcolm Arnold); Fantasy on Dover Castle (David Fanshawe); Battersea Park Suite (William Blezard); Dance Diversions (Michael Hurd); A Miniature Symphony (Paul Lewis). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA MARCO POLO 8225185 PHILIP LANE: London Salute, Diversions on a Theme of Paganini, Cotswold Dances, Divertissement for Clarinet Harp and Strings, Three Christmas Pictures, A Maritime Overture, Three Nautical Miniatures for Strings, Prestbury Park. ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA ASV CD WHL 2132 ENGLISH BASSOON CONCERTOS: Concerto in D (Eric Fogg); Concertino (John Addison); Concertino (Peter Hope); Summer Music (Arthur Butterworth). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA ASV CD WHL 2133 BRITISH LIGHT OVERTURES Volume 1: Caramba (William Blezard); Overture to a Costume Comedy (Stanley Black); Overture and Beginners (James Langley); Tantivy Towers (Thomas Dunhill); Boy Wizard (Herbert Chappell); Festive Overture (Walter Carroll); Overture to an Unwritten Comedy (Michael Hurd); The Arcadians (Lionel Monckton); A Spa Overture (Philip Lane); Concert Overture (Thomas Pitfield); Sussex Symphony Overture (Paul Lewis). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA ASV CD WHL 2138 LONDON LANDMARKS: Metropolis (David Watts); Rotten Row (Angela Morley); London Salute (Philip Lane); Concerto for Saxophone and Orchestra (Christopher Gunning); London Fields (Phyllis Tate); London Landmarks (Haydn Wood); Festival of London March (Paul Lewis). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA MARCO POLO 8225184 ALFRED REYNOLDS: Festival March, Alice Through The Looking-Glass, The Toy Cart, The Taming of the Shrew, 1066 And All That, etc. ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA ASV CD WHL 2134 BRITISH STRING MINIATURES: Divertimento (Gareth Walters); Elegy (Sir Edward Elgar); Suite (Michael Roberts); Two Aquarelles (Frederick Delius); Fiddler’s Green (Anthony Hedges); Two Pieces from Henry V (Sir William Walton); Partita (John Addison). ROYAL BALLET SINFONIA

September 2002