By Robert Walton.
There was a school of thought that believed popular musicians with foreign sounding names had a commercial advantage over common or garden Anglo Saxon ones. Catchy names like Mantovani or Kostelanetz certainly had a ring to them but just because they looked or sounded more distinguished than say the Chacksfields or the Farnons of this world weren’t necessarily a guarantee of classier music. After all, most English born music directors had quite ordinary names, but unlike film stars and entertainers saw no reason to change them. Equally there were many serious composers like Harris and Bennett who didn’t find their names a problem. Nevertheless if you were born with an exotic name or had a nom de plume like Geraldo (Gerald Bright) or Roberto Inglez (Robert Inglis), there’s no doubt it added a touch of class to the image! Mind you, some musicians did exactly the opposite like John Gregori who anglicised his to Johnny Gregory. One English musician who was quite happy to keep his real name was George Melachrino, son of a Greek father and an English mother. Just as well he did because it certainly didn’t do his career any harm. It tripped off the tongue like any good solid homegrown name, and now after all these years seems as British as roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!
It was my father who introduced me to the music of George Melachrino - well to be exact, the Melachrino Strings. What attracted him was the unfussy style. He was very fond of light classics like Chanson de Matin, Estrellita, La Serenata, Mattinata, Poéme, Serenade (Schubert), Song of Paradise, and especially Bercuese de Jocelyn. Although there have been many different arrangements of these, no one ever improved upon the Melachrino format - unison violins often in their lower register bursting out into a rich tapestry of strings in close harmony. There was nothing corny, Palm Court-ish or syrupy and certainly not gimmicky. I could never understand why Classic FM didn’t feature any of these, especially as they were never over arranged and always faithful to the original. In some ways the Melachrino Strings were the light orchestral answer to the Boyd Neel String Orchestra. However, light classics represented only a part of the Melachrino Strings repertoire. Current songs, novelty instrumentals and the great standards all fitted into the style. In 1947 Melachrino made Masquerade, a lesser-known waltz of 1932 sound like his own composition. He would have been familiar with it from his dance band days. This tailor-made minor miracle written by Maharajah of Magador composer John Jacob Loeb was originally sung by Sam Browne with Ambrose. On the other hand, Melachrino’s own Vision d”Amour could easily have taken its place alongside those authentic classics.
But strings were only a part of Melachrino’s world. The full orchestra of fifty played an even bigger role, not least with those selections of film and show tunes. Again Melachrino cornered the market with those lush Hollywood style interpretations, but the arrangements and indeed recording quality had come a long way since Louis Levy’s Gaumont British Symphony. While the Melachrino Orchestra continued that tradition, no longer were singers part of the package. You either hummed along or sang the words to yourself, if you could remember them! In fact a policy of non-vocals extended into all his recordings, apart from rare occasions when he accompanied artists like the Luton Girls Choir, the Peter Knight Singers or Jean Sablon. You probably got more melodies for your money with a Melachrino medley, because despite the time constraints imposed by the 78rpm format, he cleverly interwove little extras into the kaleidoscope.
Melachrino never compromised his standards by churning out tune after tune. It was the long playing disc that put an end to all that by giving the arranger more freedom to be inventive, so you got better value on each individual song. When George arranged Broadway Melody from “Parade of the Film Hits” I wonder if he gave a thought to the other Broadway in Worcestershire where his mother came from? As well as the Orchestra and Strings, Melachrino had a lesser-known third group called the Masqueraders - a 16-piece light music combination.
Born in London in 1909, George Melachrino was probably the most versatile of all the light orchestral leaders. He was a conductor, arranger, composer, multi-instrumentalist, singer and occasional juggler and knockabout comedian! But these skills weren’t achieved overnight. Even as a youngster he must have been extremely focused, because from the age of four he knew that strings were to be his forte when he became the proud owner of a miniature violin. Apart from the piano and harp, he mastered every instrument of the orchestra. Although Melachrino had been classically trained as a teenager at Trinity, when it came to seeking employment he underwent a complete change of musical direction. It was his first BBC broadcast in 1927 that opened up a whole new world of dance music. His brilliant sight reading and natural ability on saxophones, clarinet, violin and viola made him in great demand for the bands of Jack Jackson, Van Phillips, Jay Wilbur, Harry Hudson (playing alongside Mantovani and Ted Heath), Ambrose and Carroll Gibbons. And being able to sing well was rare for an instrumentalist. By 1939 he had his own dance orchestra at the Café de Paris.
It’s a sad fact of history that wars can often tragically cut short promising careers, but equally they can offer undreamed of opportunities for entertainers and musicians. In WW2 while serving as a military policeman, Melachrino suffered a back injury that proved to be his lucky break. He became musical director of the Army Radio Unit and toured with ‘Stars in Battledress’. This allowed him to work with a 50-piece orchestra. When the British Band of the Allied Expeditionary Forces was formed he was the obvious choice for conductor alongside Glenn Miller and Robert Farnon who directed the American and Canadian Bands - the most amazing triumvirate of talent ever assembled in Britain.
Now Melachrino was given an incredible 80 players, virtually a full-sized symphony orchestra, and in retrospect a heaven sent opportunity for his civilian style to be developed. One of his early arrangements was Pennsylvania Polka, a song originally introduced by the Andrews Sisters, whose father was also Greek! Being part of that exciting environment must have been a tremendous learning curve. As well as the usual dance band lineup of saxophones and brass, each orchestra had its own string section, so it must have been an unprecedented opportunity to compare notes. It was during this period that Melachrino acquired a lot of his string ideas, not necessarily from strings, but saxophones. After all, arranger Melachrino being no stranger to playing tenor sax and clarinet, could relate to reeds. He might not have been aware of it but even when he was playing in dance bands he was serving an apprenticeship for string writing. I believe the Melachrino Strings were firmly rooted in the Glenn Miller sound (clarinet, 2 altos and 2 tenors). In string terms that would be something like distributing a 5 note chord between the violins (3 notes), and the violas and cellos one each. And yet Melachrino sounds a million miles away from Miller. Listen to Moonlight Serenade played by the Strings. Even a simple four note close harmony chord (E,G,A,C) has the Melachrino sound written all over it.
A vital element for any successful composer/arranger is a right hand man. Robert Farnon had Bruce Campbell, Nelson Riddle had Gilbert Grau and George Melachrino had William Hill-Bowen. He was a brilliant arranger, composer and pianist and a great asset to the Melachrino Organization. Three well known compositions of his were Paris Promenade and Paris Metro recorded by the Orchestra, and Park Avenue Waltz recorded by the Strings. In Robert Docker’s Legend, William Hill-Bowen showed what a superb soloist he was.
Melachrino might not have been as prolific as Farnon or Torch but nevertheless he wrote some beautiful miniatures, starting at the age of 4 with Up the Mountains, the notation of which resembled a mountain range. Most of them exuded a certain Englishness, just as Coates’s music had. There’s never a dull moment in one of Melachrino’s most interesting instrumentals, the playful Les Jeux living up top its name (Playing) with its teasing time signature changes. Violins in the Night obviously has a lyric because the title fits so perfectly with the opening strain. I half expected to hear George himself singing it with the strings. And talking of vocal numbers, in the hands of arranger Melachrino, Robert Farnon’s My Song of Spring was truly transformed into a Sophistication Waltz! Busybodies was in the Shooting Star mould and the Vaughan Wiliams-like Woodland Revel again reveals Melachrino’s facility for strings. Copper Concerto possibly inspired by Melachrino’s experiences in the military police, contains quotes from If You Want to Know the Time Ask a Policeman, Policeman’s Holiday and his own Winter Sunshine. Starlight Roof Waltz has to be one of the most exhilarating waltzes of all time. In Portrait of a Lady there’s a passing resemblance to Don’t Cry for Me Argentina and one of the most untypical Melachrino tunes was the Danse d’Extase from the film “No Orchids for Miss Blandish”. But the undisputed Melachrino masterpiece is Winter Sunshine with its slightly sinister Slaughter on Tenth Avenue-like opening and its absolutely thrilling build-up to a colossal climax, followed by one of the most peaceful passages in all music.
I first learnt about George Melachrino’s untimely death on June 18 1965 on a newspaper display board outside Earl’s Court tube station in London. It hit me particularly hard because only the day before I had met up with a member of the Melachrino team, a Mr Jones. As well as a fixer for Melachrino recording dates he was also looking for background material for America and asked me to write some. He played several Melachrino tapes but what really impressed me was seeing at first hand George’s original score of I Remember the Cornfields.
If Paul Weston was the pioneer of mood music albums, then Melachrino was the undisputed master on this side of the Atlantic. Of all British light orchestras, Melachrino’s stood alone as the truly “symphonic” aggregation even if it wasn’t quite as modern or light as some of the others. In spite of the mighty Melachrino Orchestra’s international reputation, George Melachrino will be remembered, not for those powerful cinematic images, but something far more subtle and understated - that sublime string sound which he made his own.
ELGAR Complete Works for Wind Quintet, Chandos CHAN 241-33 Athena Ensemble. Don’t be put off by the title because this is one of the most charming and delightful double CDs you will ever encounter. Light and jolly salon music of the very highest quality it comes at a bargain price of around just £10 and you won’t find better value anywhere. Before Elgar became famous he wrote several light tuneful pieces for a youthful wind quintet in which he played the bassoon. The members amused themselves privately but with an occasional public performance, including a local mental hospital. It is quite possible you may recognise some of the pieces from radio and television themes, and after you have played them you will definitely want to hear them again. You will also find the tunes buzzing around in your head for the rest of your life which, just for the record, are as follows: Harmony Music No. 1, 2, 3, 4, & 5; Five Intermezzos; Six Promenades; Four Dances; Evesham Andante; Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup. Originally released as a double LP it makes a wonderful double CD, deal for the car or background music at home. Beware, though, the tunes are addictive and you will find yourself humming them incessantly! Why? Try Harmony Music No. 4 which is subtitled The Farmyard!
24th July 2017 is the centenary of Robert Farnon's birth. Robert sadly died in 2005, but in his memory we are reproducing several tributes originally published in a Journal into Melody (JIM) special in May of that year.
Or through the Menu item "Robert Farnon" above to access the individual articles.
by Philip Brady
I always thought Robert Farnon was indestructible. His melodies filled my childhood with wonder and joy. For me he was the latter day Puccini. Listen to the soaring string arrangements on Jack Parnell's "Lovers Love London". Be stirred by rousing marches like Derby Day. My father bought the David Rose record Portrait of a Flirt before I was in long pants. ABC Australia's Maurie Lockie on radio was using Journey into Melody as a theme to "Yours For the Asking" (request show) when I started riding a bike to school.
By the time television began Down Under in 1956, Robert's music was coming thick and fast to introduce every program from the MelbourneOlympic Games to Royal visits in Oz.
By 1958 I was an established broadcaster and TV host myself so I used every opportunity to dress up my shows with a Farnon fanfare or two.
You can just picture my delight when David Ades invited me to interview Robert at an April meeting of our Society in 1993. Imagine the thrill when my silver haired hero strolled into the Bonnington and greeted all of us present with the warmest of smiles and a friendly hand shake. I was in awe. I had a total eclipse of the heart - to quote a Bonnie Tyler song.
My love affair with Robert's music, mini symphonies to me, has endured,nurtured by the recent releases of so much material on Vocalion and other enterprising labels.
That April day so long ago renews my spirit. Robert's anecdotes over dinner, the long chats we enjoyed between drinks, the photo sessions and taped interviews, the video I shot, the maestro was so generous with his time and affection. He made every member feel so special, so important.
The icing on the cake for me was also being in the company of other musical giants that day like Sir Vivian Dunn, Clive Richardson and Ron Goodwin. I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. Thank you David Ades for giving me the keys to the Kingdom!
Our friendship endured. On one of Robert's milestones I recorded a special piece Life Begins At 80. I always phoned him on his birthday and we exchanged Christmas cards every year.
In the words of another celebrated composer, Irving Berlin, the song isended but the melody lingers on.
Goodbye my cherished friend.
by Forrest Patten
When I first heard of the passing of my friend Robert Farnon, I realized that a warm and glowing light had ceased to shine. It's hard to put into words how one feels when losing an individual who has been your musical benchmark... the one that you compare everybody else's work to. I know that there will be many articles and tributes covering Bob's prolific musical output (and deservedly so). My personal memories are laced with humor; and Bob enjoyed laughing.
Over 30 years ago while still in college, I wrote a "fan" letter to Robert Farnon care of Chappell's in London. Thanks to John Parry, he forwarded my letter and, as a result, I received a personal response from the "Guv'nor" himself. He also alerted me to the Robert Farnon Appreciation Society (as it was known then) and I soon received an invitation to join from Secretary David Ades. I have been a member ever since.
In 1980, Bob was asked to be a guest conductor for the Vancouver Symphony Pops Orchestra in British Columbia. On the bill, too was fellow Canadian singer Edmund Hockridge. I decided to travel north from California and attend the concerts and to write a review for JIM. Following the opening night concert, I made my way backstage to Bob's dressing room. I knocked on the door and he answered. I told him I was looking for Harry Rabinowitz. He looked a little puzzled until I introduced myself and he broke into laughter.
Bob had brought his daughter Debby along on the trip so, following the next evening's scheduled concert, I invited them both to Trader Vic's at the Vancouver Bayshore Inn. After several libations, Bob tactfully mentioned that the two of them had not eaten dinner. A little surprised, I told them that I would be more than happy to take them to dinner at Trader Vic's but, as late as it was, Bob wanted something a little less exotic. Driving the two of them back to the Georgia Hotel, we stopped at a little burger joint called Hamburger Mary's. Debby scurried in returning with a couple of burgers and some onion rings. The two of them seemed more than happy. I felt bad though because it wasn't my intention to get them loaded with potent exotic drinks on an empty stomach! Bob and Debby were just too polite to mention that they had not had dinner prior to the concert.
The RFS gatherings at the Bonnington Hotel could also set the stage for some memorable, fun moments. When Nancy and I attended our first London meeting in 1994, we were standing close to the entrance and the sign-in desk. In walks Bob preparing to officially sign the guest book. I took one look at him and blurted out, "My God. They'll let anyone in here!" We both broke into laughter and gave each other a hug. Bob got his revenge, though. At the next meeting we attended in 1996, Bob saw us arrive and cheerfully announced to the group (in which he was talking to), "Please excuse me. I have to go over and talk to my father." Again, more hugs and laughter.
And then, there were the telephone calls. You never knew what kind of a greeting you would get when Bob called. One day at our San Francisco office, Nancy picked up the phone and Bob said, "This is your hot Latin lover from Liverpool." I don't think that Nancy has ever quite recovered from that one. Another time, he'd simply say something like, "This is Bob. I'm calling from Guernsey. You know, where the cows are."
In addition to his wonderful sense of humor, there was also a very deep and soulful side to Robert Farnon. I will always cherish the many personal conversations we had over the years regarding his music and recordings. I remember telling Bob how much I loved his light flute cameo piece "La Casita Mia." He told me that it was one of his favorites as well, but felt that listeners weren't as familiar with it. We also shared a mutual love of Claude Debussy's "Prelude To The Afternoon Of A Faun", specifically the version performed by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Regarding his two concert works "From The Highlands" and "From The Emerald Isle", Bob confessed that he much preferred the Irish Suite to the Scottish Suite. When Chappell Music asked Bob to write a waltz in the style of Richard Rodgers, he did just that even borrowing the first seven notes of a Rodgers classic. Just compare those first seven notes of "Younger Than Springtime" to those of "Westminster Waltz." Bob had the last laugh, though. He won an Ivor Novello award for "Westminster Waltz", although he'd tell you that he came up with his melody before Richard Rodgers did! Bob also didn't like stress.
I will truly miss our talks. Bob totally understood the current state of the music business and how his compositions (as well as light music in general) were not as much in demand as they once were. This is why a number of his later works took on a more serious "concert hall" approach. Yet he told me how grateful he was to have so many of his earlier recordings available once again on CD. His hope is that future generations will now have the opportunity to hear and to study his music. Bob also told me that he wanted his library of scores to go to the Canadian National Archives in Ottawa.
The last time I spoke to Bob was on the morning of Thursday, April 14. He called just to check in and to tell us of his latest activities. He said he was writing daily and was very excited about the upcoming May 14th premiere of his "Edinburgh" symphony, as well as the recent completion of his concerto for bassoon ("Romancing The Phoenix.") I told Bob that we were off to Canada for our 10th wedding anniversary and wished he could join us for high tea at the Empress Hotel in Victoria. He said he'd love to but didn't think that the nurses at the facility would let him. He sounded very upbeat and encouraged by his physical progress.
How fortunate we are (in the RFS) to have personally known Bob. For those who have never attended a London meeting or have worked with him professionally, you'll know the man by his music.
Bob, you helped to shape my musical life from the very beginning. You taught me to listen to the melody, bass line, and to listen to all of the little extra embellishments in an arrangement. You have provided some of the most pleasurable, memorable and evocative compositions and arrangements of all time. And, most importantly, you shared your personal friendship. We will not forget you.
Thank you, good friend, for sharing God's great gift of music and harmony with all of us.
May the orchestras and conductors of the world perpetuate your musical legacy.
by Jim Palm
It was 1948; I had been listening with the family to a radio programme - one of a series - called SEND FOR SHINER and the signature tune really made me sit up and take notice; I had heard nothing like it before. The bright, bouncy happy-go-lucky theme turned out to be something called Jumping Bean and its composer, one Robert Farnon. Brought up on a gramophone diet of George Formby, Gigli and Marek Weber, I had nonetheless sacrificed three weeks' pocket money a few years earlier by buying Holiday for Strings since this was the direction in which my musical tastes were leading me but here, with Jumping Bean, was something even more scintillating and I liked it. Somehow, the money was found for another purchase and I still have the record.
As the months passed, I began to realise that the work of four men in particular which popped up on the radio very frequently in those days never failed to excite me. Those men were Sidney Torch, Charles Williams, Clive Richardson and Robert Farnon. The last-named, I discovered, was Canadian and had settled in this country after the war. His talent shone like a beacon; everything he wrote seemed to be a winner. And it wasn't just Jumping Bean; I soon became aware of such delights as Portrait of a Flirt;Manhattan Playboy, High Street, Taj Mahal and Ottawa Heights, writing down the titles in a notebook in the hope that, one day, I might be able to obtain them all on records - if I had the money. Far too many of them weren't available anyway and soon I was just one of the many hammering on the door of Chappell’s to no avail!
But it was impossible to watch the old BBC Television Newsreel without being constantly aware of the genius of this young Canadian. I can remember that cavorting Bean being used to accompany the antics of a woman set on demolishing her old house so that the builders could move in to construct a new one. The infectious rolling rhythm of Canadian Caravan followed Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip on a visit to that country in October 1951 and as the 1953 Coronation grew nearer State Occasion came into its own. How I longed for someone to release it commercially! There was also, I recall, a television film about the work of missionaries in the Far East which used Bob's Oriental March to great effect. Heard frequently, too, were such gems as Mountain Grandeur, Pictures in the Fire. Journey into Melody, How Beautiful is Night, Tete a Tete and the scintillating All Sports March - the list is endless.
As far as I am concerned, Bob never managed to scale similar heights in his later years and neither, for that matter, did my other three 'heroes'. An era had passed; the world had moved on.
But never mind: he penned more than enough classics in the post-war period to ensure his immortality and his brilliance in the field of what is now called 'production music' cannot be questioned. He has left a remarkable legacy of miniature marvels which will continue to be heard and enjoyed for a great many years to come.
All I can say in the wake of so much wonderful music is: Thank you, Bob, and may you rest in peace.
by Philip L. Scowcroft
The light music of these islands over, say, the past century and a half is a huge corpus of light orchestral pieces, operetta and musical comedy, balladry, music hall and other songs, film and TV music, band music, much music for children and other students and perhaps other things, contributed by many hundreds, even thousands of pens. I myself have compiled notes on some 2300 British born or British domiciled composers of light music and do not suppose for one moment that is the whole story. In any case that figure includes only those active during the 20th century. The 19th century will supply hundreds more.
These two and a half thousand (or more) composers contributed to the magnificent heritage of British light music in a myriad of different styles. To start with Sullivan — and he is not a bad place at which to start — he was, and still is, recognised as a great eclectic, bringing elements of Handel, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Verdi and other major composers plus influences like Victorian hymnody and balladry to create what is a clearly Sullivanesque style. Edward German was, even in 1900, reckoned as Sullivan's natural successor and his idiom is in many ways not dissimilar, but with the influence of the 19th century French music more predominant. Eric Coates's early orchestral works, especially the attractive Miniature Suite of 1911, strikingly resemble Edward German, though Coates soon added other elements, not least the up-tempo dance music of the 1920s, to create a characteristically Coatesian style. Coates was not a man of the theatre but many other great British light music were — Sidney Jones, Lionel Monckton, Haydn Wood, Arthur Wood, Hubert Bath, Alfred Reynolds, even Roger Quitter — and their music, even when purely orchestral or instrumental, has a singable lyricism which is both enjoyable and memorable. Many of them would have acknowledged a debt to German and, through him, Sullivan.
I could go on in this vein for a long time, but it is high time for us to arrive at Robert Farnon who was active on the British light music scene for considerably longer than Sullivan, German, Coates (whom Farnon much admired), the Woods, Reynolds and any of the rest: a total of some sixty years — a remarkable span which few, if any, composers in whatever idiom, can match, and that ignores the work he did pre-war in his native Canada, arranging for radio shows and the Percy Faith Orchestra and, at the opposite end of the contemporary musical spectrum composing a number of 'classical' works which are still capable of delighting us.
So what did Bob Farnon bring to the British light music heritage, which was so long established by the time he came to England in the early to mid-1940s? Some opportunities, like the composition of ballads and music hall ditties which some of his forebears had exploited were outmoded or becoming so, while available work for the theatre was much reduced after 1945 compared with its earlier balmy days. As we have seen, Farnon brought experience as a composer of 'serious' music (even symphonies) and it is perhaps apposite to notice that many light music figures were classically trained and that several of the composers we have mentioned — Sullivan, German, Haydn Wood and Hubert Bath, among them — had had ambitions to be serious musicians. Additionally, Farnon brought experience in popular music, both in Canada and as Conductor of the Canadian Forces Band during the war and a transatlantic brashness soon to be typified in one of his best known movements, Jumping Bean. The word 'brashness' is not intended in a derogatory sense; rather it is an attempt to suggest the exciting breath of fresh air that Farnon brought to British light music.
This 'fresh air' was, it soon became apparent, particularly suited to the provision of 'mood music' (or production music), for the publisher's recorded music libraries with which — and particularly with Chappell’s — Bob Farnon became involved both as composer and conductor. This provision reached a peak in the 1950s but declined gradually thereafter. Many others became involved in it — Sidney Torch, Charles Williams, Ronald Hanmer, Trevor Duncan and dozens of others — but, with all due respect to their very considerable talents, most would agree that RF did that kind of thing better than anyone. One has only to think of A La Claire Fontaine, Portrait of a Flirt, Westminster Waltz, State Occasion and All Sports March - and of course Jumping Bean (to pick six sharply contrasting examples) to make a point.
Another thing Bob did particularly well was writing film music and he once said that the opportunity to write for British films was the main factor in persuading him to stay this side of the Atlantic to make his career in music after the war was over. The Golden Age of British films and film music spans approximately the years 1935-65, when the music was often provided by some of the greats in British classical music — Walton, Vaughan Williams, Bax, Bliss and Alwyn are just five. Farnon again supplied a new dimension, his work being (not unnaturally) more Hollywood-influenced than that of many others writing for the British large screen in mid century. Examples of Farnon's contribution are Spring in Park Lane, Captain Horatio Hornblower and Gentlemen Marry Brunettes. Before long television provided further opportunities and there we can exemplify Colditz, whose march takes its place beside Coates' most famous marches and is surely immortal, and Four Freedoms.
As we all know, light music generally speaking went into a period of decline after the early 1960s but Bob proved to very adaptable and survived what for some others were relatively lean years. Work for films and television helped him to do so, as did his continuing work in providing orchestrations of popular, even pop songs. In this he drew on his unrivalled practical experience of instrumentation (was it Andre Previn who dubbed him the best writer for strings in the business?). He remained active well into his eighties. Not only did he earn the deep respect of his fellow practitioners as composer and director of light or lightish music but, ever urbane, he was on warm, friendly terms with many of them and was in some cases not above giving them practical help when this was required. As just one example of this he completed the Mountbatten Suite, which his great friend Sir Vivian Dunn had begun as a tribute to his friend Lord Louis.
To sum up, my own impression is that Bob Farnon not merely performed brilliantly, whether as conductor, arranger or composer in the field of "light music" — however we define that notoriously difficult expression — for longer than any of his forbears or contemporaries in that field, but that he was arguably more versatile than any of them (I have not yet mentioned his interest in brass band music; many of his most famous pieces were arranged for that medium and the Une Vie de Matelot was adopted as a test piece for the National Championships in 1975). He overcame, triumphantly, difficulties that some of his predecessors had not had in that, for a substantial part of his career he had to contend with relative public apathy and indifference to several of the lighter forms of music. That being so, he will surely have been grateful for the support of the Robert Farnon Society and of other people and institutions who have helped bring about the resurgence of interest in light music during the last years of the 20th Century and the first years of the 21st. In this resurgence we may salute him as both leader and inspiration.
by Pip Wedge
Robert Farnon's loss is hard to accept, but the joy of his many talents will be with me for as long as I live, and forever in the panoply of his glorious music which is there for the world to enjoy. I was fifteen when Robert Farnon's name first impinged on my consciousness. Ever since, I have loved first his music and then the man for so many years.
In London in the autumn of 1944, doodlebugs were still roaring overhead, and soon our days were punctuated with even louder explosions as V2 rockets arrived without warning. The invasion of Europe had been pulled off successfully, but the war was far from over, and for my family, living in Forest Hill S.E. 23 at that time, just about all our entertainment came from the radio.
The presence of so many members of the Allied Forces in Britain during the build-up to D-Day had prompted the formation of the Allied Expeditionary Forces Programme on radio. This utilized the facilities of the BBC, and its programming included performances by both British and Allied performers and orchestras. Captain Robert Farnon came from Canada as the conductor and chief arranger for Canadian Band of the AEF; the Orchestra, and many small groups from the band, could be heard on-air several times a week and these programmes quickly became one of my favourite sources of entertainment.
When Bob stayed on in London after the war, his work as a staff arranger for Geraldo, and arranger for other British bands, kept him out of the public spotlight for a while. Yet, as he started writing and recording 'moodmusic' for Chappell’s, one could not help but be aware of his work, without knowing who had written it, as show after show in radio and television featured Farnon compositions.
The bell rang for me early in 1948, when I was acting with an amateur dramatic repertory company in a play called "Fly Away Peter" (written, coincidentally by one A.P. 'Pip' Dearsley). At each performance, before the curtain went up at the beginning of each act, the stage manager set the mood by playing what I thought was one of the most beautiful pieces of music I'd ever heard (and I still think so, 54 years later). At the end of the first performance, I checked the orange-and white-labelled 78rpm record on the turntable. It was "Portrait of a Flirt", and it was with no surprise that I recognized the composer's name.
As luck would have it, my subsequent move into the music business, first as business manager to Steve Race and later as Assistant Editor of the New Musical Express, led to my running the music department forAssociated-Rediffusion, Britain's first commercial TV station to go on the air. In that capacity, I set up a music and record library, and one of my jobs was helping producers find background and theme music for their programmes. So often it was a Farnon composition that did the job, and I counted myself very lucky to be paid for spending my working hours surrounded by so much wonderful music, which I could play whenever I liked.
As the years moved on, the Farnon name became more and more widely known, through his light music writing and arranging, his conducting, and his scoring of music for several films. In a life filled with music, mine was continually enriched by the distinctive string writing and harmonic and melodic creativity that hallmarked each new work that Bob wrote or arranged.
Teddy Holmes was running Chappell's in the early 1950s, and I have the vaguest of memories of meeting Bob in Teddy's office around that time, but our first real meeting did not happen until many years later. He came to Toronto in 1997, during a visit to Canada for the celebrations to mark his 80th birthday. I had had correspondence and phone conversations with him in the process of working with Glen Woodcock to get Fred Davis's tape of the Canadian AEF Band's Lost Recordings issued on CD, but it was a very special moment indeed when we shook hands in the studios of Manta Sound in the summer of 1997.
Subsequently, as the Canadian rep for the Robert Farnon Society, I've been proud to do what I could to try to get this exceptionally talented Canadian musician the kind of recognition in his native land that has for so long been accorded to him around the world.
Each time I would call or write him with news of another small victory — a radio program here, a newspaper or magazine article there - his gratitude was almost embarrassing. He never ceased to sound genuinely surprised that anyone cared that much about him, and that anyone would devote airtime or newsprint to him and his work.
Bob's talents were unique, and fully deserved the accolades he received over the years from his peers and from the public at large. He will be sadly missed, and so fondly remembered. It must however have been a source of much satisfaction to him, as it is to us, to know that his music will live on as his legacy to the world. Those of us who have been lucky enough to know him as a friend, will have the added joy of remembering the lovely warm man with the irrepressible sense of humour and the heart full of warmth.
Goodnight Bob, old friend. Sleep well. See you in the morning.