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286 The Gramophone, December, 1929 THE LIGHTER SIDE OF RECORDING AND SOME TRIBULATIONS By STANLEY CHAPPLE WHEN I became Musical Director for the Vocalion Company I found that my work brought me into contact with all the many and diverse forms of music which were reco:rded in those days. This was some five years ago, not perhaps a very long time, but certainly a long t ime as regards the gramophone, for i t was in this period that the gramophone suddenly shot up from a lusty youngster to a gTown man. . i t was recorded, a nd how exhausting to the soloist (then fifty-three) was the t iring and inevitable prel iminary rehearsing, I can only sigh and wish that electrical recording had come just a l i t t le sooner. In fact the t ime taken over that one concerto would nowadays have yielded at least half-a-dozen important works. As i t was, the perfection of modern methods came just too late to record Sapellnikoff at his finest. That is a matter of great regret. My activities even included conducting l ight popular tunes. In those days dance music was not the special featUl"e i t has now become, and there were no such things as, for example, " Mike Johnson and his Band." My work was certainly varied enough. One day I would be conducting a symphony orchestra, the very next day I might have to accompany some great favoUl"ite of the JIalls; then would follow a session at the piano accompanying li eder, and then next day would come the doubtful pleasure of doing the same thing wi th decaying Victorian ballads. • All this brought me into intimate touch with well-known artists, some of whom one was proud to have met, while others proved merely disappointing. Someof them l iked the atmosphere of the recording studio and some were STANLEY CHAPPLE. La.ssalle. Incidentally, when Sapellnikoff was visiting his family in Odessa in 1916 he was caught by the revolution, with the result that h e was unable to escape from Russia until the summer of 1922. Before I assumed the post of Musical Director I occupied the position of accompanist to the Vocalion Company. Ten years ago I had the unique experience (in this capacity) of playing the Bach double concerto with Sammons and Tertis, the latter, of course, having arranged the second violin part for the viola. His consummate playing really seemed to make his transit ion improve the original score, except in the second movement, in which one missed the wonderful effect of Bach's pattern weaving for two violins. Sammons never seemed in the slightest degree almost petrified by the sight of the recording trumpet. I have some cherished memories of Sapellnikoff, with whom I had the distinction of recording the Tchaikovsky concerto, the work which Sapellnikoff first introduced to London at a Royal Philharmonic Concert under the baton of the composer. His reading of this concerto (which, in fact, he often played with Tchaikovsky) may definitely be said to be authoritative. The concerto was Sapellnikoff's first and la st important gramophone recording. When I think of the conditions under which perturbed at playing in front of that awful bogey, the recording horn, which has frightened artis~s all over the world far more than their audiences ever have. One of the finest pieces of recording ever achieved wa s the result of a lucky seizing of a chance opportunity. During the waits in the studio, whilst the double concerto was being recorded, Sammons and Tertis started to play the great Handel Pass acaglia. They pla yed from memory, and I am sure in a spirit of fun and bravado, to see how far '
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The Gramophone, December, 1929 287 they could continue. Whilst they were playing a test was made unbeknown to them. I t was so good that they were persuaded to record i t properly, and the record was made almost before they realised what had happened! That disc still remains as a memento of one of the finest displays of string playing I have ever heard. . Sammons never turned up at a session with the same violin. He was always discovering a new instrument far better than any he had yet used! I t was about this t ime that I was first introduced to those orchestral players who in after years were to play under my baton, and who have always been the best of friends to me. The occasion was when i t was decided to make a series of records i l lustrative of all the instruments of the orchestra. These records were to be issued simultaneously with a book on orchestration. One episode remains in my memory. We were endeavouring to record the famous horn call from Siegft·ied. This call is one of the nastiest passages ever written for the horn, and a terrifying ordeal for even the best of players. That magnificent player, Tom Busby, had been entrusted with the onerous part, and I remember that he stood in front of the trumpet quite unable to finish the record. The rest of us coaxed, bullied and cajoled, but i t was of no use, poor Busby merely got redder and redder in the face, and more agitated. At length i t was suggested that we should all leave the studio and leave Busby alone. OutSide, someone had a briUiant idea., and a stiff whisky was sent in to him. Whether i t was the whisky or whether Busby recovered his usual composure will never be known, hut the record proved to be a splendid example of virtuoso horn playing. Busby always after referred to the exceptionally perfect recording conditions of that day! Another frequent visitor to the studio was Malcolm McEachern. Solely for the protection of singers prominent notices were exhlbited in the studio to the effect that smoking was not allowed. McEachern was oblivious to these. As soon as he entered the studio he would l ight up a particularly foul briar. Puffing furiously, he would l isten to the introductory bars of the song he was to record. At the right moment he would withdraw the pipe and sing those wonderful bass notes of his. The verse ended, back would go the pipe into his mouth, whilst the piano or orchestra continued the symphony between the verses. :McEachern was a typical" Aussie." Sometimes his speech, especially the ejaculations, bordered on what might be called frankness. On occasions these were transmitted to the record. But I don't think that any of these ever reached the public. I t seems a great pity that McEachern'S really wonderful voice was not utili sed. for better songs than those which he was asked to record. I suppose i t is well known that the sisters Jelly and Adila d'Aranyi are great nieces of Joachim, had lessons of him, and were musically brought up under his direction. They truly carryon his great tradition. One of the most delightful sessions I ever had was when these two gifted artists recorded the Bach D minor Concerto. Their sympathetic understanding of each other, of what the conductor required, and of the music, was almost uncanny, and firmly made me believe in the penetrating intuit ion of women. Their playing is always an object lesson to those virtuoso soloists who regard the orchestral interludes as being merely written to give them an opportunity to recover their breath, and by no means as an integral part of the composition as a whole. I am often amused at the extraordinary ideas which artists have when they are asked the playing t ime of their pieces. This, of course, for recording purposes, is of the utmost importance, the average duration of one side of a twelve-inch record being four minutes, and of a ten but three minutes. I have often been assured that a solo would easily come on one side of a record, only to ·discover that after six minutes the soloist was about half-way through! This is no exaggeration. Harry Weldon would spend days t iming his patter to coincide to the second. At the session he would be sure that everything was all right. The red l ight would appear. Then he would immediately forget all his arranged patter, gag brilliantly, but the record would always be too short or too long. Another delightful but difficult artist was Teddy Brown, who used to record Xylophone solos with orchestral accompaniments, doing such things as the Ba1'carolle from Tale8 of Hoffman or Mendelssohn's Spring Song. He never had any music, and often. extemporised variations which took him far from the composer's original intentions. This was all right; the real difficulty was to get the orchestra to accompany his variations! Artists are naturally temperamental in the studio. One made allowances, But i t was always a very stormy day when one well-known operatic singer, who hailed from the Continent, recorded. She would enter with a happy smile for all of us. A most infectious smile i t was, too! Rehearsing would start and we would get as far as the test. Then a high note would blast, as I had anticipated, for at this juncture I had requested the singer to step back. This vagary on the part of the instrument she would regard as a personal affront and a reflection upon her voice. There would be a great battle of words and recriminations between the artist, the recording staff and Stanley Chapple. Reaction would be reached with tears and hysterics. All this while the orchestra, would sit back and thoroughly enjoy themselves. They were. paid by the hour! Finally, the studio door would crash and Madame

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286

The Gramophone, December, 1929

THE LIGHTER SIDE OF RECORDING

AND SOME TRIBULATIONS

By STANLEY CHAPPLE

WHEN I became Musical Director for the Vocalion Company I found that my work brought me into contact with all the many and diverse forms of music which were reco:rded in those days. This was some five years ago, not perhaps a very long time, but certainly a long t ime as regards the gramophone, for i t was in this period that the gramophone suddenly shot up from a lusty youngster to a gTown man. .

i t was recorded, a nd how exhausting to the soloist (then fifty-three) was the t iring and inevitable prel iminary rehearsing, I can only sigh and wish that electrical recording had come just a l i t t le sooner. In fact the t ime taken over that one concerto would nowadays have yielded at least half-a-dozen important works. As i t was, the perfection of modern methods came just too late to record Sapellnikoff at his finest. That is a matter of great regret.

My activities even included conducting l ight popular tunes. In those days dance music was not the special featUl"e i t has now become, and there were no such things as, for example, " Mike Johnson and his Band." My work was certainly varied enough. One day I would be conducting a symphony orchestra, the very next day I might have to accompany some great favoUl"ite of the JIalls; then would follow a session at the piano accompanying li eder, and then next day would come the doubtful pleasure of doing the same thing wi th decaying Victorian ballads. •

All this brought me into intimate touch with well-known artists, some of whom one was proud to have met, while others proved merely disappointing. Someof them l iked the atmosphere of the recording studio and some were

STANLEY CHAPPLE.

La.ssalle.

Incidentally, when Sapellnikoff was visiting his family in Odessa in 1916 he was caught by the revolution, with the result that h e was unable to escape from Russia until the summer of 1922.

Before I assumed the post of Musical Director I occupied the position of accompanist to the Vocalion Company. Ten years ago I had the unique experience (in this capacity) of playing the Bach double concerto with Sammons and Tertis, the latter, of course, having arranged the second violin part for the viola. His consummate playing really seemed to make his transit ion improve the original score, except in the second movement, in which one missed the wonderful effect of Bach's pattern weaving for two violins.

Sammons never seemed in the slightest degree almost petrified by the sight of the recording trumpet.

I have some cherished memories of Sapellnikoff, with whom I had the distinction of recording the Tchaikovsky concerto, the work which Sapellnikoff first introduced to London at a Royal Philharmonic Concert under the baton of the composer. His reading of this concerto (which, in fact, he often played with Tchaikovsky) may definitely be said to be authoritative. The concerto was Sapellnikoff's first and la st important gramophone recording. When I think of the conditions under which perturbed at playing in front of that awful bogey, the recording horn, which has frightened artis~s all over the world far more than their audiences ever have.

One of the finest pieces of recording ever achieved wa s the result of a lucky seizing of a chance opportunity. During the waits in the studio, whilst the double concerto was being recorded, Sammons and Tertis started to play the great Handel Pass acaglia. They pla yed from memory, and I am sure in a spirit of fun and bravado, to see how far '

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