In recent years there has been a growing interest in 
          antiques, not just on the part of devoted collectors, but by the public 
          at large. Such interests are many: furniture, Jewellery, silver—ware, 
          pottery, models and toys, family heirlooms of every imaginable kind. 
          Along with such small personal possessions we display an admiration 
          for old buildings: castles, stately houses, ancient monuments, fortifications, 
          industrial archaeology, exquisite formal gardens.
        
        Perhaps being over-awed by modern technology: the digital 
          watch, computers, air-travel, television, sky-scrapers, washing machines, 
          mobile phones, e-mails, internet shopping, DVDs, microwaves, fast foods 
          and the multifarious other facets of twenty-first century living, we 
          seek same kind of temporary refuge in things from a more elegant and 
          seemingly less stressful age. Not that an earlier age could really be 
          looked on as all that less stressful - for most people daily life was 
          grim indeed - dirty, unhealthy, dangerous, dark, cold, burdensome and 
          inequitable in every conceivable way. But with hindsight it now seems 
          to us that there were aspects of it that make it seem more elegant and 
          appealing to our present more robotic times.
        
        Music from the great classical times, contemporary 
          with the building of imposing country houses, portrait painting, literature, 
          craftsmanship of every kind, reflected the Age of Enlightenment as it 
          has been called. To perform such music required the deft skills and 
          inventive craftsmanship of instrument makers. The family of strings 
          instruments had reached its zenith long beforehand with the Italian 
          masters of the 1600’s and those who followed their example. However, 
          with the rise of romanticism composers began to be more demanding of 
          their performers. Not only string instruments but wind instrumentalists 
          too were required to satisfy the increasingly imaginative demands of 
          composers such as Berlioz and Wagner, to say nothing of the even greater 
          exhortations made to them by composers as the century progressed.
        
        The past hundred years has seen the art of music change 
          out of all recognition. However, like the connoisseurs of elegant eighteenth 
          or nineteenth century furniture, we still like to hear music from 
          that same period. Although we appreciate the convenient artefacts 
          of our own age, to a large extent we prefer the music of an age earlier 
          than our own. Modern performance, with its almost obsessive concern 
          for technical perfection, reflecting our similar attitudes to all other 
          modern technological things, has tended to regard even the performance 
          of older music in this same clinically sterile way. The advent of such 
          perfection in recording has forced upon musicians this necessity, for 
          otherwise the human faults inherent in virtually every live performance, 
          which in earlier times would just disappear for ever once the immediacy 
          of the live perfornce was over, would remain to be heard in perpetuity, 
          a lasting embarrassment and indictment of the performer. Modern orchestral 
          players are realists; like craftsmen in any other vocation they choose 
          the best and most up-to-date tools for the Job. Despite this, the odd 
          thing is that string players prefer the finest of old instruments if, 
          (like the antique collector), they can afford them. They have always 
          realised that these antique instruments (for such they are) are far 
          better crafted than anything made in more recent times. 
          They have matured with the centuries and are said to be incomparable. 
          However, the opposite is generally true of wind instruments. The 
          wooden flute has now been almost universally replaced by a more steely-toned 
          metal one; the oboe, while still of wood, has been ‘improved’ 
          in several technical ways, as have also the clarinet and bassoon, especially 
          with regard to the key-work which has made some of the formidably difficult 
          or impossible passges of a hundred or so years ago now seem relatively 
          undaunting. But it is with brass instruments that the most drastic evolution 
          has taken place. Without here going into overly complex technicalities, 
          it is merely necessary to say that before the mid-nineteenth century 
          the brass of the orchestra, compared with the strings and wood—wind, 
          was severely limited in what it could do. With the advent of mechanisation 
          the horn, and the trumpet in particular, underwent a sea-change in technical 
          abilities. The invention of the valve revolutionised not only the trumpet 
          but, except for the trombone, all the other nearly-related brass instruments. 
          This was reflected in the manner composers were from then onwards able 
          to write for the orchestra, and of course the wind band itself.
        
        If the latter part of the nineteenth 
          century saw the evolution of the brass, the later part of the twentieth 
          century witnessed an even more overwhelming emancipation of the percussion 
          from every musical culture in the world. If it is not too politically 
          incorrect to suggest, it might even be likened to to a kind of musical 
          illegal immigration!. To the aristocratic lineage of the classical timpani 
          and its almost as venerable associates: the bass drum, cymbals and triangle, 
          there continue to be added an almost unending accretion of exotic percussion 
          sounds. These can be intriguing and colourful, but to many listeners 
          they bring a multitude of aural impressions that often seem crude, inexpressive 
          and brash, and their effect can quickly pall. The old saying is still 
          fundamentally true: that the effectiveness of percussion is in inverse 
          ratio to the amount it is used. The great masters knew this and were 
          exceedingly sparing in their employment of it. Perhaps one of the most 
          telling examples being the single, isolated tam-tam stroke in the last 
          movement of Tschaikowsky s "Pathetic Symphony. The instrument is 
          used just this once in the whole work, but its effect is awe-inspiring.
        
        It was suggested at the outset that 
          there has, of late years, been an increasing interest in antiquarian 
          pursuits along with support of organisations such as the National Trust, 
          and English Heritage. It is hardly surprising that as a reaction against 
          some of the very highly-polished aspects of musical performance now 
          to be heard universally, there has arisen a similar interest, and often 
          a preference for what might be termed an "English Heritage" 
          of orchestral playing. Notwithstanding the personal idiosyncracies, 
          said to be insistently and dominantly imprinted by arrogant, world-class 
          Jet-setting conductors on all the orchestras they visit, orchestral 
          sound the world over now tends to be much the same whether it be in 
          Chicago, Prague, Paris, Tokyo, London, Munich or Helsinki. One notable 
          exception could be the Vienna Philharmonic where they still play on 
          "Zuleger" oboes, Oehler" clarinets, and the brass has 
          a round, mellow warmth.
        
        To the present generation of orchestral 
          players, inevitably bound by the threatening demands of their performance 
          being held on permanent record 
        
           
             
               
                 
                   
                     
                       
                         
                           
                             
                               
                                 
                                   
                                     
                                       
                                         
                                           
                                             
                                          
                                        
                                      
                                    
                                  
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                      
                    
                  
                
              
            
          
        
        (a musical police-file, one might say, and thus potentially 
          held against them in future), everything needs to be as safe and blameless 
          as can possibly be managed, it often makes for performances lacking 
          in human emotion and a sense of spontaneity; but who can blame them?
        
        
        
        It was not always so, and within a period of this writer’s 
          orchestral life a marked change came about. Along with the decline of 
          the wooden flute, it became rare to see or hear the characteristic french 
          "Buffet" bassoon now replaced by the ubiquitous "Heckel" 
          and other German makes following this pattern. Most noticeable of all 
          has been the virtually total demise of the true "french horn, that 
          romantic, poetic, unpredictable and hazardous of all wind instruments 
          which has been replaced by the safe, sonorous but rather dumpy sound 
          of the modern ‘double’ horn. As for the even earlier classical ‘natural’ 
          horns and trumpets, preferred by Brahms even at the end of his life, 
          it was long thought that the technique of playing these instruments 
          had been lost; the modern valved instruments seemed to lose a new generation 
          of players the ability to play the older, classic natural horns and 
          trumpets. But in recent years this has happily proved not to have been 
          lost at all. Very recent performances (summer 2002) have demonstrated 
          that the natural trumpet of Bach’s day can still be very efficiently 
          and floridly handled by those willing to explore its dazzling baroque 
          style. Similarly hand-horn technique has certainly not been lost in 
          performing Mozart and even the later Brahms.
        The trombones, of antiquarian lineage, have become 
          wider-bored. This is fine for some things (Bruckner, for example), but 
          in the fiery brilliance of French music, especially Berlioz, they sound 
          far too ponderous.
        
        The percussion has already been remarked on; suffice 
          to add that the timpani though mechanised as early as 1900, remained 
          for a long time basically hand-tuned instruments, whose character even 
          now, for all its facile capability to retune in an instant, is essentially 
          one of the fundamental tonic-dominant harmonies. Those cunning melodic 
          passages it is required to play in Nielsen, or the slick glissandi in 
          Bartok, are still not quite the real nature of the timpani. Beethoven 
          is still one of the finest models for effective timpani writing (the 
          ‘Choral’ Symphony or Violin Concerto, for example).
        
        Apart from metal strings, the family of string 
          instruments remains virtually the same as it has from baroque and early 
          classical times.
        
        From the reaction to an overly sterile sound, and the 
          often automaton-like rhythmically obsessive approach by a younger generation 
          of conductors there has arisen a number of organisations devoted to 
          recreating or preserving an older and more individual way of performing 
          music from times past. This may not be appropriate for Copland, Bernstein, 
          Shostakovich, Takemitsu or Lutoslawski, but it can be more in keeping 
          with much music from even the relatively recent past: Strauss, 
          Debussy, Sibelius or Elgar, and certainly many of the British composers 
          from the period Just before the Second World Var.
        
        Apart from having in recent times reverted to Handel’ 
          s original scoring of ‘Messiah’ (rather than the inept and totally unnecessary 
          "additional accompaniments" by Mozart) there have arisen several 
          organisations devoted to rediscovering earlier orchestral styles. Two 
          British orchestras have made a special note of this in their titles: 
          "The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment" 
          and the "Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique". 
          "The New Queen’s Hall Orchestra" revives the name of a once 
          very well-known London orchestra and makes a particular point of recapturing 
          the manner of playing characteristic of the late nineteenth and early 
          twentieth centuries. To achieve this it uses many of the actual instruments 
          then in use: wooden flutes, french horns, narrow-bored brass, hand-tuned 
          timpani. The performances have a vitality and endearing human quality 
          that, sadly, so frequently can be lacking from other too-clinically 
          "correct", but often emotionally-dead performances.