Getting beyond his station in life?
              Arthur Butterworth
              I feel very diffident 
                about all this; you see I am not one 
                of the great aristocrats of orchestral 
                life; not a string player, or even a 
                wood-wind player, and certainly not 
                from the truly acknowledged great lineage 
                of horn players. How can I possibly 
                justify having the outrageous audacity, 
                the very presumption, to write for a 
                court circular addressed to the very 
                royals of music? I began life as a lowly 
                brass player; hardly daring to admit 
                that I was only a trumpeter. But come 
                to think of it, maybe at one time – 
                long, long ago - oh! such a long time 
                ago; way back in baroque times, my instrument 
                had an honourable pedigree; we trumpeters 
                were the consort of kings and princes; 
                we strutted on battle fields, the close 
                associates of great warriors, we were 
                at the centre of ceremony, everybody 
                looked up to us; we were mollycoddled 
                in high places: cathedrals, palaces, 
                our brazen, haughty voices were heard 
                everywhere; we were the pampered favourites 
                at any kind of court music-making. Bach 
                certainly knew how to treat us well 
                - we even appeared at the very top of 
                his scores. But I suppose some other 
                wind players began to think we were 
                a bit too arrogant, and thought we ought 
                to be taken down a down a peg or two. 
                Eventually, and most sadly and undeservedly 
                our heroic golden voices dropped out 
                of fashion, and lesser people - like 
                Mozart, for example - seemed not to 
                like us in the way that Georg Frederik 
                and Johann Sebastian knew how to respect 
                and treat us. Suddenly - or almost - 
                the "new look" - or should 
                one say "new sound" - in music 
                came along: all this rococo stuff: Haydn 
                symphonies, Mozart piano concertos; 
                tame sort of stuff really, hardly anything 
                for the real king of music: the trumpet, 
                who had been disgracefully usurped by 
                this suave, un-prepossessing guy whose 
                pedigree had merely been one of a hunt 
                follower, a whipper-in, a mere muffled 
                noise-maker in the hunting field instead 
                of a heroic leader on the battle-field. 
                But that of course has ever been the 
                stuff of history: a genuine aristocrat 
                being usurped and then having to go 
                underground for centuries and live as 
                if he were merely a peasant with no 
                ancestry; a hand-to-mouth existence, 
                playing just a few isolated tonic and 
                dominant notes in the chord now and 
                again.
              
              However, we gradually 
                learn from our betters, so to speak, 
                and who knows, if we behave properly; 
                don’t make coarse noises, don’t get 
                too high and mighty - as perhaps we 
                once used to show off in all those Bach 
                cantatas, the B minor Mass, Christmas 
                Oratorio and such like - and learn to 
                be genteel and know our place, perhaps 
                we might somehow be invited in on occasion. 
                After all one supposes we do have a 
                few of the same genes as horn players 
                - we are all of the same brass material 
                - so perhaps all is not lost.
              
              Some forty years ago, 
                after having spent long dissolute years 
                blowing - hardly call it "playing" 
                could you? - the trumpet in first class 
                professional orchestras I came across 
                an ancient Raoux horn and bought it 
                for twenty-five pounds. It was originally 
                a natural horn of course, but had a 
                detachable set of piston valves built 
                around 1910 by Hawkes & Son.
              
              What made me so presumptuous 
                as to acquire this refined instrument? 
                Did I have notions above my station? 
                - thinking that just because I had been 
                able to blow a mere trumpet I should 
                have the authority and ability to actually 
                play and tame this most elegant and 
                venerable instrument? It has been quite 
                a journey of discovery over a period 
                of years, and on one occasion I managed 
                - somehow - to play - well, at least 
                make some of the right notes - in a 
                summer music school evening performance 
                of the Brahms Horn Trio. The organisers 
                somehow got the idea that I was a REAL 
                horn player instead being a mere trumpet 
                lackey; so they put me down to play 
                the Brahms. I suppose this must have 
                gone to my head, for now, some many 
                years later I have come to see the light 
                of many of the finer points of the horn, 
                and, since being retired have some reasonable 
                leisure to devote to studying and playing, 
                in a modest way, this most satisfying 
                of instruments.
              
              I will never of course, 
                nor would it be feasible to expect at 
                my advanced age to play the horn properly; 
                but it has given me as a musician, and 
                especially as a composer and often in 
                earlier years an orchestral conductor, 
                a serious and more profound insight 
                into the whole nature of the horn and 
                its music. I have always realised, of 
                course, that the true nature of the 
                horn, despite all the modern ramifications 
                since it first acquired valves of some 
                system or other, has ever lain in its 
                natural state. Brahms was not wrong 
                in having so long virtually resisted 
                the valve horn. No matter that this 
                modern instrument, from Wagner onwards, 
                has been capable of all that late nineteenth 
                and twentieth century composers have 
                demanded of it; there is still a feeling 
                that its true nature lies in what can 
                fundamentally be played on the natural 
                instrument, whether that be in F, D, 
                Eb, C, Bb basso or whatever other crook 
                has been called for - such as Db in 
                Wagner, or H in Brahms. There is a subtlety 
                and individuality about each crook and 
                composers of the past must surely have 
                been acutely aware of these niceties. 
              
              
              In recent weeks I have 
                - with the encouragement of my great 
                friend and mentor, Dr David Miles - 
                begun to explore the secrets and rewards 
                of playing the natural horn. Like most 
                other musicians in the 20th 
                century I had long assumed that this 
                - like baroque trumpet playing - was 
                something of a lost art. But in both 
                cases this is not so. In all spheres 
                of present-day instrumental music, we 
                are coming to re-explore the techniques 
                and ideals of earlier music and begin 
                to realise that such earlier techniques 
                are by no means lost.
              
              I find it most rewarding 
                to spend time exploring the secrets 
                of the horn, much in the same way that 
                I have in recent years become more familiar 
                with the viola. No longer are other 
                instruments merely personally unfamiliar 
                things whose technique, when on the 
                rostrum or when writing for them, are 
                instruments I only expected others to 
                play at my behest.
              Arthur Butterworth 
              October 2006
                
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