The artists we forget: in praise of classical music’s unsung heroes

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It can seem that the world of playing musicians (and violinists in particular) belongs to those who make an early start. If they are competition winners they will be under 30, pursued by managers, recording deals, orchestras and high-profile concert promotors. Even the introverts among them will need fearlessness, rather envied by more experienced artists, apparently unaware that anything can go wrong. For them, they seem to have no judgement-clouding moments of hesitation or self-doubt. 

But are we always aware as to the possible delicacy of the person behind the talent? Do we fully understand how fragile might be the relationship between the person and that talent? And how getting that relationship to a reasonably stable state is often laden with traps and blind alleys as life and careers move on?

Over years of working in all sorts of situations in the music business I’ve come across some astounding people and talents. And while these talents are known about and celebrated among colleagues, mostly they go unacknowledged and unnoticed by a wider public. 

Talking more specifically about violinists, one has only to look over a section in any professional orchestra to wonder at the multiple manifestations of the art to discover some more than interesting flowerings. Sure, there are the energetic young ones, trying to get noticed and make their way, calculating a route ahead. That’s natural and to be expected and encouraged.

But perhaps more intriguingly there are those for whom there has already been a meaningful career. There they are still playing away. Times change; artists are overlooked as the next generation of shining new talent presents itself. To stay in the spotlight over a lifetime is exceptional indeed.

I’ve never forgotten meeting the violinist Marie Wilson, at that stage in her career playing as an extra on the back desks of the London Philharmonic Orchestra when I first started my professional career in that band. She certainly radiated a bright optimistic outlook on life and seemed delighted still to be playing.

And later I enjoyed many tours with two great talents while working with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields. While of course I remember with great admiration and affection Sir Neville Marriner, Iona Brown and Kenneth Sillito, less trumpeted were two gents, older than most of the rest of us and often seated together: Andrew McGee and Alan Loveday.

They were completely different characters but charmingly mutually supportive, and both, given a different set of circumstances, might have commanded a lasting career. Alan made, of course, one of the highest selling albums in the ASMF’s early discography – Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and there were a few other recordings of his astonishing abilities as well as many Proms appearances.

Only mentioned tangentially in obituaries after his death in 2016 however was that of which he was most proud; his work on himself and for others with Alcoholics Anonymous. He felt that this work was far more significant than any of the many big concert appearances he had made.

Andrew McGee, now in his eighties, remains one of the finest violinists I’ve known, despite never receiving the lasting recognition his gifts deserved. I will never forget a performance on tape of his playing from the mid 60s of Szymanowski’s rapturous Concerto no.1 with a very young Sir Andrew Davies and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. I was stunned; what a sound and what beauty of line – he sounded like a totally original combination of Yehudi Menuhin and Henryk Szeryng. 

So, while I rejoice in all the confident purveyors of their art, I also want to raise a glass to an often-overlooked sort of artist: to those whose careers haven’t quite taken off or whose early direction has been cut short or obscured - either by definite design or for other reasons. And to those who quietly go about their business creating musical beauty in a less glamorous way.

What’s so often not talked about in the quest to become a somebody in the world of music is the casualty rate. The need to reclaim life and identity from parents who have maybe pushed too hard; or teachers who have not known how to stand back and realise that the talent is not the whole person. Then there’s luck or lack thereof and the physical demands and dealing with the stress of performing; as Itzhak Perlman once said, ‘…so many things can go wrong’.

What’s so often not talked about in the quest to become a somebody in the world of music is the casualty rate

So, to survive is something. To keep one’s playing and listening fresh, to remain true to those first enlivening experiences with music. To get through life’s puzzles and dangers with a spirit of undiminished joy and above all to keep playing. 

Thomas Bowes’ album with Sinfonia Arcadiana of Elgar’s Violin Concerto and five of his celebrated miniatures in new arrangements by Eleanor Alberga is out on the Rubicon label on 25 September. Watch the trailer below and find out more here: https://www.thomasbowes.com/elgar and lnk.to/ThomasBowes