Malcolm Arnold

A Tribute

By Tony Mansell (written in October 2002)

(Published in the Malcolm Arnold Journal 2002)

 

“Regrets, I have a few” or so the song says. It is almost inevitable that we will all end our days with some regrets, they may be large or they may be small. Actually, I have very few regrets and of those that I feel comfortable in discussing here, a couple do stand out.

As a teenager, my two main hobbies were music and rugby but, unfortunately, they turned out to be mutually exclusive.

I played in a brass band and this involvement led to me becoming involved in other groupings ranging from quartets to orchestras. This provided me with a very wide appreciation of all types of music, something for which I have always been grateful. Playing in music teams, for that is what they are, brought its own pressures from the knowledge that your contribution was not only important to you, but was essential to the team as a whole so that the complete, balanced sound could be achieved.

Rugby is an exhilarating and fascinating game and I loved it. Playing as a back row forward, or lock as we called it in those days, meant that you had to squeeze your head between the thighs of the two guys in front and embrace their buttocks with your arms. This left you very vulnerable and after receiving a number of kicks to my face and to my mouth in particular, and not being able to play a musical instrument for a period on each occasion, I was given an ultimatum. It’s them or us! And so I made my decision, and with a heavy heart, it was the rugby that had to go.

It must be really wonderful to excel at something or other. As far as I am concerned, my epitaph will probable read “He did OK”. Not, that he was exceptional at this or outstanding at that but, “He did OK”. And so it was with my music. I was a utility musician, not the brilliant soloist that we all wanted to be but the steady, never let you down sort of player. Of course, I aspired to be a great player, isn’t that understandable? It was Samual Johnson who said that “Every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place” and I was no different. Perhaps with more aptitude and a greater level of dedication I may have achieved that to which I aspired but that is now academic just like I will never know if I could have played rugby at a higher level.

Whatever I did or did not achieve with my music, I did have the privilege of playing under some brilliant musicians. Many were from the world of brass bands; Eric Ball and Denis Wright, being numbered amongst them. And, from the wider music world, there was Geoffrey Brand and Malcolm Arnold. In particular, I remember Malcolm Arnold with affection, pride and respect. Initially a trumpet player with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, he went on to become a conductor and composer of international repute.

He was a large man, both physically and in character. A genial extrovert, whose presence would be felt immediately he walked into a room.

The question has often been posed that if a band or orchestra is made up of good players, why then does it need a conductor? As I have said previously, a group of musicians is no less a team than a group of sportsmen playing rugby or soccer. My view would be that a good team should play better than the sum of its individual talents but this will only happen under the direction of someone with the ability to lead, motivate and inspire. This then was Malcolm Arnold. Playing under him was like reaching a zenith, like the best time you made love, like all of your best emotions rolled into one. It was beyond, far beyond, the shiver down the back which accompanied all such emotionally outstanding moments. I can still remember the time when I actually stopped playing just to listen to the beautiful sound and thinking that life doesn’t get much better than this.

Of course, there were also the humorous moments like when he was being particularly animated as we approached an exciting climax only for his trouser belt to give way. His conducting suddenly became one handed as he grabbed hold of his trousers and carried on with unreduced enthusiasm. To our credit, we continued playing but it was touch and go.

He lived on the north coast of Cornwall for a number of years and he became a familiar face in the county. I remember him giving one of his original music scores to the late Tony Giles, the St Agnes painter, as a wedding present. Tony valued this present greatly and repeated the story to us on a number of occasions, usually with pint in hand.

Malcolm Arnold left Cornwall for Ireland but now lives somewhere in the south east of England; I’m not sure exactly where. He must, by now, be in his late seventies or early eighties. I have often thought that I should write to him, not that he would remember me, simply telling him how much I enjoyed the experience of playing under him and what an effect it had had on me. It is one of those “good intentions” that somehow I have never got around to. Perhaps I will tomorrow.