Michael Dewar Head
If you were to list the five most famous English composers of the Twentieth Century, it is unlikely that you would think of Michael Head. Yet at the end of the 1940’s he was officially ranked in the top five alongside such great names as Benjamin Britten and William Walton. Head’s wonderful legacy of over one hundred songs is still known through performances at competitive singing festivals but the songs are now unfortunately neglected on the professional platform. In his lifetime they were performed by famous names such as Kathleen Ferrier and Isobel Baillie, in addition to his own self-accompanied recitals, which were enjoyed by audiences across the world.
The composer, singer and pianist, Michael Dewar Head was born in Eastbourne on the 28th of January 1900. His father Frederick was a barrister who wrote the legal column for the Financial Times and books on company law. Frederick’s very relaxed attitude toward finances meant that his family were never wealthy and sometimes had financial difficulties. This caused him little worry and he would simply decide to write a book or article to raise money or move home, to somewhere less expensive. The family moved many times but always stayed in or near London, so the disruption for his two children was minimised.
Michael and Nancy, who was seven years younger, were fascinated by the characters and adventure stories their father would invent for them. On long walks he often told them that he was in command of a powerful genie that lived underground; proven by the numerous trapdoor to his subterranean domain marked with his initials ‘F.H.’ They believed him implicitly and it was a few years before they discovered that the ‘F.H.’ meant Fire Hydrant!
Their mother Nina Watson came from a musical family and gave her son piano lessons from the age of four. Many of her relations had lived and worked in India during the time of the British Raj. The children were fascinated by the exotic atmosphere and stories surrounding their mother’s relatives and their homes in England, which were full of Eastern furniture and objet d’art. Grandfather Watson had been a chaplain to the Indian Army, and this allowed Michael to obtain a place at Monkton Combe School near Bath, who offered reduced fees to sons and grandsons of clergymen.
Sunday evenings the boys would be taught with missionary zeal about the different religions of the world. They were to be ready at any time for the ‘Call’ to convert the heathens. Michael and his friend Derick Ashley would often discuss their fears of how they might be dragged from their beds at night to become missionaries and how inconvenient it would be. However, Michael enjoyed his time at the school especially when he was asked to play piano pieces for the end of term concerts. His next school was the very unconventional Home School at Highgate in London. He attended as a day pupil and his rather delicate health was improved by the open-air environment and living at home. The school was co-educational, vegetarian and had no uniform. Dalcroze Eurhythmics was part of the curriculum and the children even went for classes with Dalcroze himself.
In 1912 Michael began his serious music studies, taking piano lessons with Mrs Jean Adair, a pupil of Clara Schumann at the Adair Marston School of Music in Gloucester Road, London. When his voice broke, he also began taking singing lessons with Fritz Marston, a follower of the Manuel Garcia Italian style of singing, which ensured a well-trained voice with excellent technique. This solid technical foundation allowed Michael to perform publicly without ever developing vocal problems for his whole life. He would also accompany other students at the school and was admired for his brilliant sight-reading and spontaneous transposition of difficult accompaniments. His precise and meticulous accompaniments would later become a hallmark of his own performances and compositions.
Michael also had a natural ability and fascination for engineering and construction. In addition to many inventions and self-made gadgets, he constructed an elaborate model railway on a spiral track around his bedroom walls. He also built a theatre with scenery, working electric lights and puppets, giving shows, which he had written to entertain the family. His other inventions included a home-made motorcar on which he would take his four-year-old sister down the quiet roads near their home.
Mrs Valentine Knaggs, the wife of a renowned Doctor, a music lover and amateur violinist, frequently gave musical evenings at her home. As a great support of Michael’s developing musical talent, she often invited him to perform and took him away on holiday to Devon with her own children, to improve his health. Mrs Knaggs became good friends with Nina Head, encouraging her and her children to follow a vegetarian diet and to wear more comfortable clothing. These were the fashions of the ‘progressive Edwardian set.’
Michael’s mother seems to have been eager to try out any new radical ideas. When the family moved to Highgate, she became involved with the new First Church of Christ Scientist and sent her children to their Sunday school at Sloane Square. This sect believes that any illness is ‘unreal’ and may be cured by prayer and religious contemplation. When their mother moved on to new ideas, the children were quite relieved that this short but intense period of religious devotion was over. Nancy found it more intrusive and unpleasant than her brother, who seemed to endure it with an attitude of detached passivity.
Towards the end of World War One, the family moved to the village of King’s Langley, in Hertfordshire. Village life was idyllic for the children with lots of outdoor games, cycling down country lanes, winter ice skating and summer picnics. Michael loved the countryside and climbing hills to view the panorama of woods and fields. This stayed with him all his life and is evident in the poems he chose to set.
The family became great friends of E. D. Morel, who as secretary of the Congo Reform Association was famous for his protest against the conditions of labour in the Belgian Congo. In 1914, Morel had founded the Union of Democratic Control, which aimed to avoid future conflict after the war via democratic peace in all nations. All though not an outright pacifist, in this time of heightened hostilities his activities were viewed as treasonable and he was sent to prison. The Head family met him after his release, and he introduced the children to liberal ideas and politics. He was always kind and encouraging to them and especially enjoyed Michael’s singing. At his funeral in 1924, Michael sang a setting of R.L. Stevenson’s ‘Requiem’ as a tribute.
In 1918, Michael volunteered for the Royal Air Force but was rejected on health grounds. He was first sent to work in a munitions factory in Acton, and then to landwork on the Dorset farm of Sir Ernest Debenham. He became friendly with the Debenham family and was often invited to sing and play at their home. During his time at the munitions factory, to escape from the boredom and daily grind, he composed four songs to words by Francis Ledwidge. ‘The Ships of Arcady’ was published by Boosey in 1919 and all four songs appeared as the cycle ‘Over the Rim of the Moon’ in 1920. Although his first publication was' Claribel ', written at the age of seventeen, these were his first mature pieces and began his lifelong passion for composing.
By the end of the war he was a trained mechanical engineer, but he decided to apply as a composition student for the Royal Academy of Music (RAM). He was awarded a Sir Michael Costa scholarship for composition, which he took as first study with Frederick Corder. Piano and organ were his second studies with T.B. Knott and Reginald Stegall; he did not take singing as a study. He won nine awards at the RAM, before his graduation in 1925.
Michael was shy and reserved generally, but he found good company in his school friend Derick Ashley, who was a fellow student, and through him he befriended Alan Bush. They studied and socialised together, and Michael sang the baritone part in Alan’s operatic scene based on ‘The Last Days of Pompeii’. Michael continued his singing lessons with Fritz Marston and in 1929 he sang for Sir George Henschel, renowned for his self-accompanied performances of ‘The Erl King’. Henschel encouraged Michael to perform self-accompanied recitals, which would become his most outstanding musical talent.
He attended as many concerts of ‘serious music’ as he could, witnessing the performance of masterpieces from Beethoven to Sibelius, conducted by great names. His preference was mainly for classic composers rather than modern, but he enjoyed Bartók and Berg and was greatly moved by Michael Tippett’s ‘A Child of our Time’. He admired Britten but found it seldom touched his feelings, with the exception of his ‘War Requiem’. In the 1930’s he saw Toscanini conduct Verdi’s Falstaff in Salzburg and Kirsten Flagstad sing Isolde and Brünnhilde in New York and London. He once met her after an Albert Hall recital, where she had performed one his songs ‘Nocturne’, in her programme.
His lifelong desire to be a professional musician was limited by his finances. After graduating from the RAM, in 1926 he took employment as a music master at Bedale’s School in Peterfield. The director of the music department was Ronald Biggs, who would become the BBC’s music programmes organiser during World War Two. Michael found himself at ease with his young pupils and the success of his singing classes raised his self-confidence. His individual lessons were also well enjoyed by his pupils and himself. At Bedale’s there were plenty of music making opportunities, social gatherings and trips to the countryside and Chichester harbour, which made him more sociable and outgoing than before. Yet after only three years, in 1929 he left and never returned to school teaching.
He had been elected Associate of the RAM in 1924 and in 1927, was appointed a professor of piano. He later became a Fellow in 1945. He held this teaching post until he retired in 1975. He was a sympathetic teacher but never indulgent. His disciplined style and dignified modesty encouraged his students to work hard but to also enjoy their lessons. The informal atmosphere of his lessons belied the considerable amount of work his students were given to prepare. He insisted on every dynamic and nuance of the music being expressed and this careful and precise eye for detail became a hallmark of his own compositions.
He was an active member of the RAM Club and took part in their concerts, performing his own songs at the piano. His work as an examiner often took him away from London and he would make up the lessons at his flat when Academy rooms were not available. In what could be described as organised mess, he would sometimes challenge his students to sight-read his latest composition to accompany his singing.
Boosey, who published his compositions, promoted Saturday afternoon London Ballad Concerts at the Albert Hall or the Queen’s Hall, where many of Head’s songs were included in the programme. Mr Leslie Boosey became a great adviser and friend to Michael. The concerts were popular and well attended offering a variety of music from classical to popular and particularly promoted the work of contemporary composers. The standard of performance was high with many well-known singers appearing including Astra Desmond and Isobel Baillie, who included Head’s songs in their repertoire.
His first London recital at the Wigmore Hall took place on January the 9th, 1930. Michael included eight of his own songs in a programme that ranged from Dowland to Schubert and Negro spirituals. The Daily Telegraph press review praised his excellent taste in choice of song, his smoothly produced singing and the pleasant and unaffected qualities of his own songs. Letters he received afterwards also complemented his excellent diction, which carried his words to the very back of the hall and his effective expression in performance.
Although he never seemed nervous on stage, he was very nervous indeed for at least a week before hand often feeling strained and agitated and finding his voice constrained and husky. This is quite common for most recital singers but his performances always sounded comfortable in his voice and his breath control and technique were so sure that it overrode any nerves and came in very handy when he had to sing at the piano.
In 1933 he met Dame Sybil Thorndike, who became a great friend and supporter. He regularly visited her London home and enjoyed the informal music making with her family and friends. She often sent him notes of encouragement and support before his performances and greatly admired his versatility and talents as a composer, singer, and accompanist.
Specialising in performances of his own work brought new opportunities, when he became was involved with broadcasting, from the early days of the BBC at Savoy Hill (1922 to 1931). His first broadcast was a group of three songs his own ‘A Blackbird Singing’ and ‘A Piper’ with the traditional ‘Lass of Richmond Hill’ as part of an hour’s entertainment on 2LO, the London wavelength in 1924. He regularly broadcast English folk and traditional songs with a selection of his own pieces as his light baritone voice and clear diction was most suited for transmissions and being able to accompany himself at the piano made it easier to organise. All the concerts were transmitted live, putting great pressure on everyone to arrive on time and the programmes were limited to segments of 27 minutes to allow shipping signals to be heard. Michael continued working with the BBC until they ‘retired’ him in 1964. He would continue to give public performances for a further 12 years. Many of the radio listeners were discerning music lovers who appreciated his refined technique and the quality of his compositions. He received much fan mail expressing the pleasure he gave:
‘I want to tell you how much we enjoyed your recital last evening… we heard every word… and united in singing your praises; we asked for an encore but of course you did not hear us!’
from ‘ Michael Head’ – A Memoir by Nancy Bush
By the outbreak of World War Two, he had composed over 50 songs, which were published by Boosey, and later Boosey & Hawkes. Although not a great reader of literature, he was always looking for suitable texts to set to music. The texts he chose during his lifetime were taken from over sixty different writers, as well as from the Bible; the earlier poets include Robert Browning, George Herbert, Keats, Milton, Christina Rossetti, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Shakespeare, Shelley and Tennyson; those of the late 19th and early 20th centuries include W H Davies, Alfred Noyes, Thomas Hardy, A.E. Housman, James Joyce, John Masefield, Seamus O’Sullivan, Ruth Fitter and Edith Sitwell.
He was particularly inspired by pastoral themes and the distinctive poetry of W H Davies. His own achievements in singing and deep understanding of the voice helped him to compose the most wonderful lyric melodies finding a natural accentuation of the words to create the most effective settings.
In the 1930’s he began adjudicating competition festivals and examining for the Associated Board of the Royal Music Schools. This took him across the world to the West Indies, Canada and India and he developed a great lifelong love of foreign travel. He was examining in Karachi when war was declared.
During the War he continued working at the RAM and for the Associated Board as well as taking duties as an air-raid warden and joining the Home Guard. His sister Nancy had married his friend Alan Bush, and they had moved out of London, to the village of Radlett in Hertfordshire. Michael spent much time with them here, enjoying discussions on composition with Alan. They often gave concerts together for the local music club.
When CEMA (Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts) was set up and given financial aid from the government, concerts were organised across the country in venues from canteens in factories to concert halls. Michael took part in many of the tours CEMA organised travelling as far as the Shetland Islands to perform for the Home Fleet. The bitter cold and foggy weather, unheated halls and blackout made life very difficult. The ladies struggled with their long dresses on the muddy sites and clambering on and off ships. In one of his letters home he wrote:
‘Once we were left without being met on an icy pier in a raging gale. I stumbled on to find someone who could hep us. In the end we reached our windswept hotel (I with a terrible cold). Our audience came in sou’westers and we played and sang through the howling wind which shook and rattled the tin hut which was our concert hall.’
Michael Head – A Memoir by Nancy Bush
By 1943 he had settled in a flat in Ladbroke Square, London, where he lived with his mother until her death in 1956. He was deeply attached to her and shared her pale complexion, brown hair and eyes. Their tone of voice and manner of speaking was also similar. She was a woman of deep convictions and although not a militant she supported the suffragette cause and had been a good friend of Lady Constance Lytton, when the Head family had lived near Knebworth House. She had sung and had lessons before her marriage to Frederick Head, but gave this up to raise her family. Michael remembered hearing her singing when he was a boy and never forgot the haunting quality of her contralto voice. Both his parents had been supportive and encouraging but his mother was especially so and was a willing and supportive audience to his new compositions. He felt that her generosity to him was rewarded at the end of her life, when he could care for her and take her for holidays.
Michael did not marry or have children but tried to help young people in practical ways. He became the adoptive uncle of two orphan boys, looking out for their welfare and providing visits to London, as well as summer holidays on his friend’s farm in Kent, where they learnt to milk cows and pick fruit. He introduced them to music, literature and the theatre and encouraged them to write to him about their life experiences, as they grew older. As adults one went to Australia and became a post office engineer and the other became a successful businessman, they never forgot the kindness, encouragement and support they had received.
In 1944 he gave three talks for the BBC called ‘Make your own music’ which encouraged amateur singers to entertain and guided them in song repertoire and presentation. In the final broadcast he was assisted by the singer Kathleen Ferrier. She sang three English songs at the end of the programme: Vaughan Williams’ ‘Silent Noon’, Parry’s ‘Love is a Babel’ and ‘Star Candles’ by Michael Head, with words by Margaret Rose. It is a lullaby and the title are a South African expression for the constellation of the Southern Cross.
This was the beginning of his long-time acquaintance with Kathleen Ferrier and her sister Win. They often visited each other, sang his songs, and went for walks on Hampstead Heath. He dedicated ‘October Valley’ to her and she included ‘Star Candles’ Sweet Chance’ ‘A Piper’ and ‘The Little Road to Bethlehem’ in her repertoire. He went to hear her sing whenever he could and greatly admired her voice and artistry.
Just after the war he began to feel unusually depressed and in poor health but by 1947 this had improved, when he began adjudicating and touring as a recitalist in Canada. At this time, he also began working with the famous oboist Evelyn Rothwell, who became Lady Barbirolli. He wrote some oboe pieces for her and this inspired some later pieces for clarinet and flute. His instrumental pieces were few but include an unpublished concerto for piano and string orchestra and a sonata for violin and piano. Over a period of ten years they gave many concerts together across the UK for music clubs and art societies. They both found it a rewarding experience and enjoyed including contemporary pieces in their programmes. During one performance he discovered that the last pages of the piano accompaniment had gone missing and he improvised brilliantly to the end, without the audience noticing.
For a recital with Evelyn Rothwell at the Wigmore Hall in 1953, Michael performed a group of his own songs. His voice was quite modest in range and volume and the journeys to the venues often left him very tired. He always admired the stamina of other singers. On the tour, he looked after himself, doing everything possible to combat the fatigue and was even known to have asked for a glass of milk at a hotel bar. Unperturbed by the astonished clientele, he went into the hotel’s restaurant, where they could serve him the milk.
In 1952 he was approached by the BBC to compose incidental music for several plays based on episodes from Proust’s ‘A la recherche du temps perdu’. In the novel there are quite a few musical references, which he had to incorporate into his composition. He also began performing for broadcasts of exclusively his own music, which he continued until he retired from the airwaves.
His singing repertoire included French German and Italian songs and in 1950 he began French pronunciation lessons from Madame Marguerite Narik, who had studied singing at the Paris Conservatoire. She explored the songs of Honegger, Fauré and Gounod with him, which added greatly to his enjoyment of the French repertoire. She had moved to London with her Greek husband before World War One but was intensely patriotic and proud of the fact that she had once shaken the hand of General de Gaulle. Michael and Marguerite became great friends and enjoyed many supper gatherings at her home. They also attended concerts together and later holidays to France, Italy, and Turkey. She was devoted to him, admiring his music greatly and was always very encouraging and supportive. As she grew older, she increasingly suffered from arthritis, so Michael brought her to his sister’s home for Christmas with the family. He also went with her for mud cures at Dax.
Life got busier with composing, performing recitals, teaching, adjudicating and examining. He enjoyed theatre and concert outings but found little time to relax apart from visits to his sister and her family in the countryside. He rarely stayed more than a day or two, spending time with the children and playing his new pieces for them. He enjoyed discussing them with his brother in law Alan and took time to listen to Alan’s new work and encourage him. Michael always made a special effort to attend performances of Alan’s music and with age had become more sociable, but he remained quite reserved and preferred his own company.
As an adjudicator and examiner, he took part in many music competitions across the UK and abroad. One of his first mentors was Sir Hugh Roberton, founder and conductor of the Glasgow Orpheus Choir. As a fellow adjudicator at one of his first festivals Roberton helped him to balance a correct assessment of the candidates with satisfying a critical audience. This work took him to many towns and cities; he came to Blackpool five times between 1949 and 1969, to judge the vocal classes. His high standard of musicianship was greatly appreciated by the committee at Blackpool and it became a tradition to include one or more of his songs in the festival every year.
At Festivals in Macclesfield and Hazel Grove, he judged the solo vocal, self-accompanied song, choral and some piano classes. Here the committee commented on his ability to combine:‘encouragement with criticism in such a way that all competitors felt they had had a measure of success’
Michael Head – A Memoir by Nancy Bush.
He often came across his own songs as test pieces or pieces of choice and his choral pieces became popular with choirs across the country; particularly on the Channel Islands, where he had begun adjudicating with the 1948 Jersey Eisteddfod.
Returning to Canada he gave lectures, concerts, and broadcasts, including a series for the CBC network called ‘The History of Song in Words and Music’ for which he wrote the script and performed and illustrated the music. His selection of over 38 songs covered music from the mid-16th Century to contemporary composers and was performed in French, Italian and English. During his stay he made many friends including the family of Mrs Byram, the official accompanist of the Toronto Festival. They welcomed him into their home and let him use their lakeside cottage as a retreat. His health improved greatly every time he stayed with them and even the first finger of his right hand, which had been left rigidly stiff following an unsuccessful operation near the first joint, showed improvement. Although this did not affect his piano technique, he was glad of the good food and extra vitamins he was given there.
In 1952 he began a tour of the USA beginning with a recital at Rocky River, Ohio where the local press remarked: ‘An immaculate enunciation and unpretentious style … the voice was a light baritone of small range but well place to carry without effort … (it) rarely exceeded a mezzo-forte but was distinctly audible even at the back of a rather large concert hall. ‘
Cleveland Plain Dealer November 1952
Frederick Koch, whom he knew from CEMA days during the war, had introduced him and they became good friends. When Michael returned to Ohio for a concert in Cleveland in 1955, he stayed with Koch and his family in Rocky River. There was an amusing incident during his stay, which reveals something of his unassuming and rather nonchalant manner. Michael had always enjoyed walking and one day set off to walk a mile or two through the pretty residential area of the town. After a while he wanted to sit down in the sunshine and read his letters quietly and noticing the grassy banks on either side of paths between the houses spread out his coat and reclined. He did so again two days later and found himself confronted by the local police who demand to know his reasons for prowling the neighbourhood. They did not believe that he had walked over two miles for pleasure and told him that the parks had benches for sitting down. He assured them his behaviour was quite normal back home in England and persuaded the officer to return him to his host’s home rather than arrest him. Mrs Koch was most dismayed by the arrival of her distinguished guest in a police car with sirens wailing and lights flashing.
Although Michael never professed a deeply religious conviction, in 1954 he felt particularly inspired by the poetry of the Latin texts he chose for three sacred songs and words from the Psalms in the Bible. Many of his new compositions were regularly broadcast on the BBC, including a performance, in the 1960’s by the contralto Norma Procter on the BBC Third Programme of a song he had written for her with lines from Shakespeare: ‘How Sweet the Moonlight sleeps upon this bank’. There is no record of any other Shakespeare setting in his extensive song compositions, which numbered over 85 in print in his lifetime. His wonderful and sensitive setting of this ‘serenade to music’ from ‘The Merchant of Venice’ shows his outstanding craftsmanship and artistry. The piano harmonies create a wash of rich colour and the vocal line evokes the mood and atmosphere of the lovers meeting. It opens with a beautiful piano solo and is a truly exceptional song that is rarely performed today.
He also wrote short one-act operas and operas for schools including ‘The Bachelor mouse’ and ‘After the Wedding’, which was given a first performance at the RAM in 1972, when the cast included Felicity Lott, and was conducted by Simon Rattle. He took particular interest in the performances for schools, attending rehearsals and gently guiding and encouraging the children. He often sang all the parts to communicate his intentions and was open to new ideas and suggestions.
People who came to him for advice, particularly young musicians found him willing to help them. This included Andrew Morris a piano student who became organist at St Bartholomew-the-Great, Smithfield. Morris later planned an 80th birthday concert for Michael but this became a memorial concert in the church in 1976, as the composer did not live to 80. The actor Mervyn Dale was another student he helped. Dale wished to train as a musician and was accepted at Trinity College of Music, London in 1952. He met Michael just before his audition and received help with his piano studies and song compositions. He eventually became a teacher of music and continued composing songs. He remained a good friend and spent several holidays with Michael in Italy, France and Denmark.
Michael’s love of travel was also fulfilled by the many examining tours for the Associated Board. His travels took him around Europe and across the world to Malta, Cyprus, Canada, New Zealand, Rhodesia, South Africa, the West Indies, Hawaii, Hong Kong, Singapore, India and Japan. He was fascinated by the landscapes, the people, the villages and cities and always the weather, which he described in detailed letters home.
Cyprus, May 1951 (Associated Board tour)
Off with Mr Georgiou about 7·45 a.m. in the Morris '8’. We drive about 15 miles in the brilliant sun, stop in a tiny village for Turkish coffee on a verandah ... and I wander off to admire the vineyards on the white chalky mountain slopes, all glowing in the blazing sun, lovely in morning light. We eventually wind our way to a remote village called Pachna. I am met by the headmaster and other teachers, who welcome me. All seems arid and poor, with mean stone houses, poorly clad children. How will they sing? Quite beautifully. I give 'distinction' to the younger class and in my usual talk afterwards I tell them: 'You sing beautifully.' 'You have nice voices.' ‘I am pleased.' 'Thank you.' — all in my best Greek. Then I say in English: 'How many eyes have I?' At once a dozen hands are up and the children's eyes sparkle — they love to answer, 'You have two eyes.' 'What is this?', picking up a chair, and there is a great chorus: 'That is a chair!' The ice is broken and they all crowd round me in the bare yellow playground with a few brilliant flower beds. The children are dark and beautiful, except the little boys all have shaved heads. We are ushered into the headmaster's room and sit round the table, where the usual bottles of orangeade appear. We all solemnly drink through straws. Conversation is limited, except for the young music teacher, but all are in an agony to know whether the class has passed. I let it be known that they have not failed and there is great relief. We rise to go, again the children crowd round, Mr Georgiou and I are presented with two lovely bunches of flowers and we depart in state in the Morris '8'.
Following a Board examining tour in Hong Kong in October 1955, he took a short holiday in Japan. Hoping for sunshine, he was disappointed but enjoyed his visit all the same:
Tokyo
It rains and rains. Finally we set off on a sight-seeing tour in a bus. Really, I quite enjoyed it all in spite of the downpour. First, the Imperial Palace, then a fine picture gallery showing the life of an Emperor — only no other pictures. Then a visit to a tea-garden, so pretty even in the rain. A pretty Japanese girl in a pink kimono escorted me everywhere under a paper umbrella. Very dainty and attractive, I thought. (No English, however.) We all watched the ceremonial of tea-making, a long business. I fear I caused a scandal for asking for some more hot water in my bowl of green tea (which incidentally was the making of it).
Kyoto
I arrived this morning in Kyoto in grey weather. I booked into a fabulously expensive hotel, European style, and at 9 a.m. rushed off to join another sight-seeing party. How it rained! Never mind, in and out of temples, palaces, green watery pleasure gardens laid out to please some emperor... I feel the only way of conquering the continuous downpour is by seeing all the truly beautiful things one can.
In 1960 he wrote from Hong Kong:
I have procured a small cool bedroom on the 8th floor perched high over the squalid roof-tops below, but overshadowed by enormous 'New-York-like' sky-scraper flats. With the harsh sounds of Chinese voices, screaming at each other through the night and day, also masses of ghostly washing hanging out in the night breezes.
In 1966, from Calcutta:
This afternoon after a siesta, at about 3.30 I went out into the seething streets — it was Sunday and Pujah holiday. Thousands of young men in more or less white shirts and sarongs wandered in droves, looking at the small stalls on the pavements. There in the vast open park it seemed there were thousands of men in groups, surrounding strange bearded sooth-sayers, or men who cure, or dressed-up cows being led in a circle. One old bearded man was lying on a bed of nails and barbed wire, one terribly mutilated beggar lay on the ground with bound-up sores, singing loudly. A strange terrifying place with its millions of people.
In his seventy-sixth year, he visited the Grand Canyon, Colorado, something he had always dreamed of:
I feel miles and thousands of miles from home, as well I am. The (Grand) Canyon is indeed vast, majestic, beautiful and sensational, worth all the effort of getting here ... The hotel is a turmoil of visitors, many teenagers. We queue for nearly all meals but they are so good when you get them. I drink gallons of ice-water, also have ice-cream and hot coffee. The weather here is glorious, brilliant sun, cool breezes. Tomorrow I venture on the all-day mule ride, down, down to the Eldorado River. I sit now amidst a hubbub of youthful people, waiting for rooms. The place is packed out.
The next letter, dated August 8 1975, was written in quite an unsteady hand:
Don't be alarmed, but I was very foolish to do the mule ride. Very tiring indeed. Just at the return I was thrown from my mule. Much bruised and shaken. I decided not to attempt the return — so guess — I was rescued by a helicopter! As it was an accident, it was considered to qualify for ambulance service.
As he got older the fatigue problems of his youth seemed to dissipate and he found he had much more energy. His quiet manner belied an adventurous nature and he rather enjoyed the risk. He was not easily daunted and in his next letter, his handwriting normal again, he wrote:
Such was the final dramatic ending to my visit, but I would not have missed such an unexpected experience.
Excerpts taken from Michael Head – A Memoir by Nancy Bush.
New Zealand was probably his most loved destination. Since his first visit in 1936 and he had a special liking for this country. Mrs Brett Patrick of Auckland, an artist and music lover, had in heard him sing at a recital in 1936 and when he returned on examining tours to New Zealand she was often his hostess. She introduced him to her circle of friends and made him feel most welcome. Although he was quite willing to attend parties, she knew that he also enjoyed the beautiful climate and landscape and took him on quiet country expeditions and picnics.
Michael also liked to give recital performances during his tours and gave several joint recitals with violinist Cecelia Keating, who had been his partner in a number of CEMA concerts during the War years. His Sonata for violin and piano is dedicated to her and they performed it together on TV in Hong Kong in a series of appearances in 1975.
His flat in Ladbroke Square began to feel gloomy and looked somewhat neglected as he was away so much and in 1968 he decided to move to a house in Asmuns Hill, Hampstead Garden Suburb. He was worried that he would feel too solitary there but he loved the house and he felt at ease to compose in the music room. He bought new furniture and carpets and curtains and enjoyed the extra space. In one room on the top floor he constructed an elaborate model railway, which he enjoyed showing to his nieces, nephews and friends’ children. He filled his house with gadgets mostly made by himself including burglar locks for the windows and an automatic device for turning lights on and off. There was a small garden, which was private and sunny, and he enjoyed growing and caring for plants. He also enjoyed playing music until the small hours, knowing that he would not disturb his neighbours. The new neighbourhood was friendly and he came to know violinist Anthony Cleveland, member of the BBC Symphony orchestra and his wife Jean, who lived next door. He composed a violin piece for Cleveland, which they performed in a joint recital in 1972 for the Hampstead Music Club.
In 1967 he was chosen ‘Composer of the Year’ by the Music Teachers’ Association and they presented a concert of his work at the RAM. The members of the Academy gave him a 70th birthday concert in the Duke’s Hall in 1970, which included his songs and chamber music. His song compositions continued and include ‘Nine Cornish Songs’; settings of texts suggested by his fellow professor at the Academy Geoffrey Pratley. He dedicated them to Pratley’s wife Wendy Eathorne, a Cornish soprano, who gave many performances of them in her recitals.
His song cycle ‘Three Songs of Venice’ was premièred by Dame Janet Baker at the Festival Hall for a concert in aid of the ‘Save Venice Fund’ in 1977. Unfortunately Michael did not live longer enough to hear the performance but was delighted that Janet Baker was going to sing it. In July 1976 he had left on a long Associated Board examining tour in Rhodesia and South Africa. Although in good health and spirits at departure, he found the tour very tiring and the political unrest caused him great anxiety.
In August he contracted a sudden illness, which proved very serious and after only one week in hospital he died suddenly on August 24th in Cape Town, where his funeral took place. His sudden death deeply shocked and grieved his family and friends. There were several memorials for him including as concert of his songs by students of the RAM. His friends gathered near his home in Hampstead, where some of his music was performed and Sir Thomas Armstrong spoke a valediction. A prize was founded in his name at the RAM for a duo of singer and accompanist.
His greatest reputation remains for his composition of vocal music. He divided his songs into two distinct styles: the purely melodic and those in which the pianoforte accompaniment sets the mood. The light and delicate touch of all his songs have immediate appeal and are a great favourite at amateur music festivals. Yet they are also very rewarding for professional singers. His expert craftsmanship and commitment to the words create wonderful atmospheres and moods. He often set several poems by the same author with the intention of making a cycle. These include ‘Over the Rim of the Moon’ (Francis Ledwidge) in 1918, ‘Songs of the Countryside' (W. H. Davies) in 1929 and ‘Sea Songs ' (G. Fox Smith) in 1948. The best and most popular of his solo songs are ‘A Slumber Song of the Madonna’ 1921, ‘A Green Cornfield’ 1922, ‘A Piper‘ 1923, ‘Foxgloves' 1932, ‘Weathers' 1932, ‘The Singer' 1936, ‘When Sweet Ann Sings’ 1938, and ‘The Little Road to Bethlehem’ 1946. ‘How sweet the moonlight sleeps’ dates from around 1968, when it was copyrighted.
Michael Head's vocal works comprise solo songs, choral music and operas. His earlier compositions used melodic intervals and chords similar to Roger Quilter, avoiding the ‘national style’ of Vaughan Williams and the English School. In a few of his later works he experimented with some features of Schönberg's twelve tones method, which proved most successful in his entertaining and satirical opera Key Money. His stage works also include The Bachelor Mouse, 'A Musical Play for Young Children' (1951) and Through Train, Railway Musical in one Act, (c.1961), which is composed for teenagers.
His songs provide repertoire for all voices from coloratura soprano to bass; in his choice of text and setting he always considered the range and type of voice that would suit the style and content. The poems he set reflect a great variety of moods from the meditative joy of the beautiful English countryside to the melancholy and dramatic. The Matron Cat’s Song, an original and brilliant masterpiece, best exemplifies his comical text setting.
© H Kean
All quotations in this article are taken from ‘Michael Head – A Memoir’ by Nancy Bush.
Bibliography
‘Michael Head – composer,
singer, pianist: a memoir’ Nancy Bush Kahn
& Averill, London 1982
‘The Concert Song Companion’ C Osborne
Victor
Gollancz Ltd, London
1974
‘The Concise Oxford History of Music’ G Abraham OUP
1979
‘The New Grove Dictionary of Music & Musicians’ 2nd Edition Grove 2001
‘Byrd to Britten: a survey of English Song’ Sidney Northcote Unwin
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