Burns’ Night

Posted by Susan Tomes on 26 January 2021 under Books, Inspirations  •  2 Comments

Last night, on Burns’ Night, my book group met on Zoom to read Robert Burns’ poem ‘Tam O’Shanter’. Several members of the group had grown up taking part in annual Burns recitations on January 25, with prizes given for the best or most dramatic performances. They recalled the sound effects and props used by winning speakers to conjure up Tam fleeing from the scene of devilish revelry on his horse Meg, whose tail is plucked off by a pursuing spirit as the mare leaps with Tam to safety across the river (spirits won’t cross running water, it seems).

My eye fell on Robert Burns’ dates – 1759-96. Very similar to Mozart’s dates – 1756-91. Two short but brilliant lives! Did they know of one another? I don’t know, but I imagine they would have shared many attitudes to life and art.

Both were capable of being earthy and cheeky. Both had great sympathy for ‘the common man’ and a healthy disregard for rank and titles. Robert Burns’ famous poem, ‘A Man’s a Man for a’ that’, would surely have struck a chord with Mozart. And Mozart’s letters to his family, with puns and jokes about bodily functions, would have made Burns laugh.

Mozart was a good linguist, but even if he knew some English he probably never encountered the Scots vocabulary used by Burns. Burns shot to fame when his volume of ‘Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect’ was published in 1786, when Mozart was flourishing in Vienna. But as far as I know, those poems were not translated into German until the early 19th century, so Mozart may never have read them.

Curiously, they had birthdays close together – Robert Burns on January 25, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart on January 27. Two great artists born under the sign of Aquarius, whose qualities are said to include a love of independence and equality.

Brahms Horn Trio on Radio 3’s ‘Building a Library’

Posted by Susan Tomes on 20 January 2021 under Florestan Trio, Reviews  •  Leave a comment

Over the years, my recordings have often featured on BBC Radio 3’s Saturday morning programme, Record Review. They have a long-running feature called ‘Building a Library’, where each week a reviewer sifts through the available recordings of a classic piece and recommends their favourites. This is always interesting because it gives listeners the chance to hear snippets of lots of different performances. Often I don’t agree with the reviewer about ‘the winner’, but I often find a new favourite of my own amongst the snippets.

If one of my recordings is on the programme, I might happen to hear about it from someone who was listening in, but there have been many occasions when I didn’t even know a CD of mine had been discussed. One isn’t notified by the BBC of an upcoming programme, so it’s complete chance whether I get to know about it or not.

Which is why I was very surprised on 2 January to get back from a walk and find a batch of excited messages from people who had heard my name in Natasha Loges’s round-up of recordings of the Brahms Horn Trio, a delightful work in several movements for French horn, violin and piano. Steve Stirling, Anthony Marwood and I recorded it for Hyperion in 1998 as part of the Florestan Trio’s Brahms Trios set of discs. That was over twenty years ago, obviously; it’s a long time since anyone had mentioned this particular recording to me, so I was delighted to find that it had popped up again and been found to be pleasing.

Ours wasn’t Natasha Loges’s final choice for the no. 1 spot, but her kind remarks about my playing had caught the ear of surprisingly many people who felt the urge to write to me and tell me about them. Which I guess just shows that we are all stuck at home in lockdown, with time to listen to the radio on a Saturday morning. Even better, it seems that people have time (and the wish) to bother to get in touch with the musicians. How nice! A cheering way to start the year.

There are still eleven days left to listen to the broadcast if you’re interested.

Learning to play the spoons in lockdown

Posted by Susan Tomes on 10 January 2021 under Daily Life, Inspirations  •  1 Comment

Last weekend, reading the Guardian Review, I was struck by a comment of Joe Moran’s about having learned to play the spoons in lockdown.

I was vaguely aware of spoons as musical instruments, but a bit of research put me in the picture: spoons have long been used to produce percussive rhythm in folk music – British, Irish, Canadian, American as well as Russian, Turkish and Greek. And it seems that ancient cultures – Roman, Egyptian – used spoons in various kinds of music-making.

The basic technique is to turn two spoons back to back and hold their handles in one hand, hitting the spoons against your knee so that their curved surfaces clack against one another. Then you hold your free hand a few inches above your knee and hit the spoons down against your knee, and up against the palm of your free hand. The effect is not unlike that of castanets in Spanish flamenco. From simple rhythms you can gradually build up to sophisticated effects, and some spoon players – like the Scotty brothers – have brought the skill to a high level of artistry.

Mastering the basic grip is the hardest part. There has to be a space between the backs of the spoons or they won’t ‘clack’, and the space has to remain consistent. If you relax your grip in the wrong way, the spoons splay apart and the sound is lost (as well as your temper). But with a bit of practice, you can soon be clicking and clacking delightful rhythms to your favourite songs.

In some traditions, spoons (perhaps wooden) are manufactured with the handles joined together so that the precise gap is controlled. But most players just use two ordinary metal spoons (they should be identical) from the kitchen drawer. It’s easy to find YouTube videos on how to learn the correct grip. I find it pleasing that anyone could join in with a folk music session with just a pair of spoons rather than an expensive instrument.

Here I am after the first day’s practice, demonstrating my new hobby to someone I couldn’t invite into the house because of Covid restrictions. Playing spoons on the porch made me feel like an authentic American folk musician.

Leaving the EU

Posted by Susan Tomes on 4 January 2021 under Daily Life, Musings, Travel  •  3 Comments

Now that Brexit has happened and the UK is out of the European Union, I have been reflecting on the fact that I have seen the whole arc of our membership of the EU from start to finish.

I was a student when we joined what was then the European Economic Community and later became the EU. It felt wonderful to be given the freedom to work, study and live in all those European countries. I remember stepping off the train at Gare du Nord in Paris and being amazed that I was being cheerily waved into France without having to queue up for a stamp in my passport.

From then on, travelling to the European continent, whether for work or pleasure, was a big part of my life. Sure, if we hadn’t been part of the EU I could still have gone there with extra bureaucratic effort and expense, but knowing that we were part of the EU gave me and my friends a larger sense of possibility and belonging. As most of the music we played had emanated from those European countries, the sense of belonging was important to us.

As of January 1, UK citizens have lost the right to live, work and study in 27 EU countries. We are out of the Erasmus programme, which has changed the lives of so many students I’ve worked with over the years. Some were British musicians going abroad to taste the air and enjoy the respect given to classical music in Germany, Austria, France, Spain, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands. Some were travelling the other way, to sample the rich musical life of our prestigious UK music conservatoires. All of them seemed to love their sojourns in those other countries.

We’re told there are great opportunities for the UK now that it’s out of the EU. But I shall never be able to bring myself to believe that losing the right to work, study and live in any of 27 EU countries is anything other than a big step backwards, especially for young people.

New Year’s resolution

Posted by Susan Tomes on 1 January 2021 under Musings  •  7 Comments

I was complaining to a fellow musician recently about how hard it is to make myself practise the piano every day, even though there are no concerts to prepare for.

Until the recent Tier 4 lockdowns, I had been hoping that concerts for live audiences could resume around Easter 2021, when most people should have been vaccinated. But the ‘new variant’ of the virus, plus the complexity of rolling out the vaccine, has blurred the focus on Easter as a return to normality. I was rather shocked when a couple of friends with insider knowledge of the NHS suggested I shouldn’t pin my hopes on those summer festivals happening in person. I confess I had, indeed, been pinning my hopes on that.

My musician friend said that, as there are no immediate prospects of live performance, we might as well approach our daily practice in a different way – not as the sprint towards a particular concert, but as an opportunity to re-engage with the learning process itself.

I suppose there was actually a long period in my life when I practised the piano every day without knowing when the next concert would be, or indeed whether there would ever be a concert at all. That period was my childhood, when little concert opportunities arose maybe once or twice a year. The scarcity of concerts didn’t deter me from practising – in fact I had hardly conceived of a time when practice would be directed at a particular performance. I was content just to learn more pieces and get better at playing the piano.

Later, when I had turned professional, the need to be in good form with a particular programme on a certain date became the driving force of my practising. There’s always an element of learning, of course, but the imminence of a concert was the paramount driver. But this cannot be the main reason to practice at the moment.  My diary is currently empty, or at any rate consists of nothing more than light pencillings decorated with question marks.

In the quiet months to come it would be good to re-engage with the spirit of learning as I used to when I was a child – travelling hopefully, rather than experiencing my musical life as a series of arrivals. This at any rate is my new year’s resolution.

Wishing everyone a good start to the New Year – surely there is light at the end of the tunnel.