Something to remember about a bassoon's bottom?

Roger Birnstingl remembers...

Cecil James was the solo bassoonist of the Philharmonia Orchestra. He was the nephew of Edwin James who had been 1st bassoon of the LSO and gave the first performance of Elgar’s Romance in 1911. Cecil was a superb musician and played on the Buffet with the lovely nutty tone so difficult to achieve on ‘the mumblephone’, which is what Cecil called the German bassoon.

In 1955 the Philharmonia played at the Lucerne Festival with Fritz Reiner conducting. In the overture to Die Meistersinger there are two bassoon parts. Reiner wanted them doubled, so I was the 3rd bassoon with the 1st bassoon part. We had got through the first part of the overture and I was doubling all the forte passages. We were approaching the Apprentice Music, which uses oboes and clarinets with an important part for the bassoon. I did not know Cecil very well at that time, so when I noticed that he seemed to be having trouble with his bassoon, I thought ‘Goodness, I think I better play’ which is what I did. As I was playing, Cecil put his bassoon on the floor and sat back with his arms crossed.

Reiner looked up, stopped the orchestra and said

‘Vas is with bassoon?’, to which Cecil replied

‘If the young man wishes to play my part, perhaps I should go home.’

Reiner to Manoug Parikian, the leader

‘Vat he say?’

Manoug
‘Don’t worry, Maestro, just start again from letter B and it will all be alright’.

Alright it was, but I later learned that the Buffet has a cork at the bottom of the butt joint which can be used to adjust the intonation and this is what Cecil had been doing.

Something to remember about a bassoon's bottom?

Roger Birnstingl remembers...

Cecil James was the solo bassoonist of the Philharmonia Orchestra. He was the nephew of Edwin James who had been 1st bassoon of the LSO and gave the first performance of Elgar’s Romance in 1911. Cecil was a superb musician and played on the Buffet with the lovely nutty tone so difficult to achieve on ‘the mumblephone’, which is what Cecil called the German bassoon.

In 1955 the Philharmonia played at the Lucerne Festival with Fritz Reiner conducting. In the rehearsal of the Meistersingers overture there are two bassoon parts. Reiner wanted them doubled so that I was the 3rd bassoon with the 1st bassoon part. We had got through the first part of the overture when I was doubling all the forte passages and we approached the apprentice music on oboes and clarinets with an important part for the bassoon. I did not know Cecil very well at that time, so when I noticed that he seemed to be having trouble with his bassoon, I thought ‘goodness, I think I better play’ which is what I did. As I was playing, Cecil put his bassoon on the floor and sat back with his arms crossed.

Reiner looked up, stopped the orchestra and said:

‘Vas is with bassoon?’, to which Cecil replied:

‘If the young man wishes to play my part, perhaps I should go home.’

Reiner to Manoug Parikian, the leader:

‘Vat he say?’

Manoug:
‘Don’t worry, Maestro, just start again from letter B and it will all be alright’.

Alright it was, but I later learned that the Buffet has a cork at the bottom of the butt joint which can be used to adjust the intonation and this is what Cecil had been doing.

Bruckner- oops!

Jascha Horenstein (1898 - 1973)

 

 

Jascha Horenstein was marvellous conductor, particularly of Mahler and Bruckner.   He was one of the rare conductors who was really admired by orchestral musicians.  The recordings we did of Mahler’s 1st and 2nd symphonies in Barking Town Hall were really outstanding.

However, one memory stands out of a performance in the Royal Festival Hall of Bruckner’s 7th symphony  (the one with the beautiful slow movement of Wagner tubas).  This symphony has a long scherzo followed by a long trio and then returns to the long scherzo.   During the evening performance,  as we arrived at the end of the first scherzo it was clear that Horenstein thought the movement was ended. Somehow the entire orchestra sensed that he had forgotten the trio, so that with his next down-beat we started the finale.  After a few seconds Horenstein’s face showed absolute shock as he realised that he was set to do the shortest performance ever of that symphony.  Poor man.

Roger Birnstingl