The Parish Church of St John-at-Hampstead

As a clergyman’s daughter Jane Austen would no doubt have agreed that it is truth universally acknowledged that the organist of your parish church should also be able to play the piano.

But that was then.  This is now, and we in Hampstead have a Director of Music who is a full-on concert pianist, so James Sherlock could give us a rich selection from his repertoire.  The acoustics in our church have always been grateful for the piano, so we can hope James had an enjoyable setting for his performance.

It is interesting that several of the composers in the programme were notable performers themselves.  Bach, of course, was a giant in the field as an organist, and a very fine harpsichordist.  Chopin, in his short life, was one of the great pianists of his day, and it shows in his music.  Delicate, as you see in his haunting portrait by Delacroix, a friend, at  the Louvre,  he suffering from tuberculosis (and living with literary lioness, George Sand, who demonstrated her independence by striding round in trousers – and smoking – can’t have helped), so he often appeared in the calmer atmosphere of the salons in Paris, which were considered a very prestigious setting for performance.  César Franck was the organist at St Clothilde in Paris for a good deal of his career; Ravel, who like Bizet, wrote at least one of the best pieces of Spanish music that wasn’t, was a working concert pianist.  Poulenc appeared as an accompanist of his own songs with the French baritone Pierre Bernac, with whom your present reviewer was able to have a master lesson late in his life.  The two exceptions were Henri Dutilleux and Schumann, who damaged his hand trying out an apparatus which was supposed to improve his practising, was unable to play himself, though his widow, Clara, a brilliant pianist, performed his music extensively after he died.

James introduced the programme himself.  From personal experience, you learn how much to say and he judged that very neatly.

He began with what he told us was a favourite piece, Chopin’s Barcarolle.  This starts with a surprisingly loud chord and then the rocking of the boat sets in.  James has a very strong sense of rhythm (he is a conductor after all) and he developed the progress of the boat, as it is a boating song, conjuring up a sound picture, at least to me, of its progress across the Venetian lagoon, and then, with a sweep, out into the tides of the open sea.  From there we moved on to Oiseaux Tristes by Ravel.  Ravel has a very French sensibility and this kind of repertoire particularly suits James.  The delicate sound of the solitary sad bird at the start – and once more at the end – were full of atmosphere.  James is very adept in all he plays, at scores requiring a lot of runs and trills, and this music brought it out. 

Equally, you cannot mistake Schumann, and his songs somehow seep into his piano repertoire as well.  His Romance in F sharp, James told us, was one of the last pieces he asked Clara to play him before his tragic death in a mental asylum.   The notes used even include a code of the letters of her name.

By this time, one thing was sure.  Many people give piano recitals.  Not everyone is a real piano recitalist.  James is.

A second Schumann piece was Liszt’s arrangement of the famous and much-loved song Widmung (Dedication).  For once Liszt didn’t hype it up too much – being a piano virtuoso, who was going to play it himself, he resisted temptation.  This was playing to touch the heart.

The first half concluded with Bach’s Chaconne (for violin) arranged for piano by Busoni.  This writer likes her Baroque straight, but Busoni who could play anything on the piano, made very sure he was going to have something to play.  A Chaconne is a dance in triple time over a ground bass, and there was an awful lot over the ground bass by the time Busoni had finished with it!  But, fear not, James negotiated it all with considerable bravura! 

We then felt in need of a glass of wine after so much to absorb!

Once more in place, we heard Chorale and Variations by Henri Dutilleux, who has recently died (at 97) and who is a composer James particularly reveres.  This piece has what might be described as a stunning opening and some very hot variations indeed!

For a complete contrast, we had Poulenc’s Mélancholique.  Poulenc is of course famous for his wonderful songs, and you almost expected it to have words.  James’ experience as an accompanist showed in his awareness of its singing quality as he played.

And then to César Franck.  Unhappily in love with one of his students who could have been his daughter, and far too devout a Catholic to admit it, he poured out his feelings in a Prelude, Chorale and Fugue.  Not a love song, but what he might have written for the church.  If you know the story, as the Fugue sweeps on, you cannot but be touched and feel for him.  With everything James plays, you feel he has thoroughly absorbed the piece, which makes his audience feel confident.

And then – and then – good old Father Willis rang out as James, who moves from piano to organ with consummate ease, gave us an encore, the last movement of Vierne’s organ symphony.   Only the day before I had been gazing up at the great organ in Nôtre-Dame, where Vierne, blind all his life, literally lived and died – in mid-recital.  Hampstead Parish Church rocks to these big pieces, and James sent us off with a smile.

And that’s how many concerts should end.