IAIN HAMILTON (1922-2000)
Dr David C F Wright
Iain Hamilton was a distinguished composer. That
expression is used too often but what it means in this present
context is that he understood music and had an enviable gift for
structure and form which may have been enhanced by his extensive
studies as an engineer. His Scottishness gave him a fine sense
of humour and an appreciation for all types of music.
He was a cosmopolitan composer living for twenty
years in New York and enjoying the bustle and dangers of its streets
and, apparently, undeterred by the alarming crime rate. He was
a most congenial man, a pleasure to talk with and to be with.
Like the other two composers that make up the great trio of British
composers of that time, namely Fricker and Searle, all their respective
scores are of quality and invention. This amazing trio had all
the essentials of musical greatness namely originality and evolving
styles and even if you do not respond to their music, its intellectualism,
skill and integrity cannot be questioned. They did not churn out
the same recipe all their respective lives and, of course, Vaughan
Williams, was masterful at this. His symphonies are so diverse
(as are those of Sibelius) and it is this evolving style that
shows progression and not staleness and is a prerequisite for
greatness in music.
As with many composers, Hamilton's first attention
was to the orchestra because orchestral music is still the most
popular among music lovers. His opus 1 is Variations on an
original for string orchestra and it is masterly. Please note
it is not Variations for strings or Variations for string
orchestra. It avoids all the clichés of string orchestra
music including nauseous slush and Edwardian pomposity and arrogance
with its ghastly stiff upper lip caricature of the British. Hamilton's
music is more akin to that of the finest composer of music for
string instruments, Béla Bartók, with a glowing
intensity. And it does not set out to show off. The other fine
British composers of music for strings apart from the trio we
have mentioned are Bliss, Elisabeth Maconchy and the sublime Gerald
Finzi whose Die Natalis must be the finest British song
cycle in the diatonic tradition with a sumptuous string accompaniment.
Iain Ellis Hamilton was born in Glasgow on 6
June 1922. He moved with his family to London in 1929 where he
attended Mill Hill School. His parents were very supportive both
in his musical and design ambitions and were somewhat embarrassed
at their son's stunning ability. He was a popular student.
He began piano lessons rather late, at the age
of ten in fact. His family were not musical or had anything to
do with art. Iain told me that he practised the piano most during
the war and often during air raids. He was apprenticed to be an
engineer up to 1946. It is this strictness of engineering training
that infuses his music and he always said that engineering was
not dull as was the musical profession. He said that most people
in the arts with the exception of orchestral players are absolutely
phoney with sickening egos and this was most prevalent among conductors
and some composers. He hated arrogance and conceit which was rife
among British composers and conductors between the wars. He had
respect for unpretentious businessmen. He once said that he would
rather be a civil engineer or a businessman than a composer. Architecture
was the only art form that really interested him. He also agreed
with me that the lives of some composers were far more interesting
than their music!
Hamilton was a honest man stating that his early
works were to solve problems which explains the influence in his
early works. Curiously he began to write serial music at the same
time he began to write his best light music. Tonal music can never
be satisfactorily original these days. It will always sound like
something else. He also hated the snobbery of those who look down
their noses at light music or good jazz (there is a lot of awful
jazz about). However, neither of us liked groups where the double
bass player only plucked and plucked and plucked! Iain said, "A
double bass is to be played not slapped!"
America and New York fascinated him. America
lagged behind in contemporary music but not in art or sculpture.
Yet students began to seek new horizons and when America discovered
the genius of Webern, the dam burst. Unlike Europe, America had
few, if any composers of note until Roger Sessions, Walter Piston
and Irving Fine came on the scene. Iain saw how some Americans
hated homosexuals and how the nation were therefore somewhat dismissive
of Copland and Virgil Thomson. But the homophobic feelings
waned and this explains why Ned Rorem was more acceptable and
his song cycles are truly superb.
Hamilton was right when he said that Europe had
a strange outlook on music and that this often erupted into fury
over trivial matters or when Europeans were blasé in their
attitudes. Iain adored Webern with his "magnificent balancing
of passionate content with economic and finely controlled form
with its superb sensitivity and intellect moulded by genius."
But the Viennese orchestras could not play his music and anyway
had such a thin sound. It was beyond both their skill, musicianship
and intellect at the time.
It is Hamilton's quiet confidence that contributed
to his great craftsmanship. He did not compose at the piano but
would check matters at the piano. Britten composed at the piano.
I saw him do it. John Ireland and Egon Wellesz always composed
at the piano and there is nothing wrong with that! Hamilton would
through-sketch something out in full as if they were complete
plans for a proposed building. Then he would compose the foundations
and the superstructure and on completion reassess the work. He
seldom revised a work although he did so in 1971 with his Piano
Sonata Op.13 of twenty years earlier. He also withdrew a couple
of works. He was not concerned with how much he wrote in a day.
Composition was not the 3.30 at Newmarket with a prize both for
the jockey on the fastest horse and the horse's owner.
One of the many things that drew me to Iain was
that three of his all-time favourites composers were also favourites
of mine. We were both committed Beethovenians. Iain was incensed
at Britten's remarks about the crudity of Beethoven whose music
Britten said was haphazard. Britten also said that the variations
in Beethoven's last Piano Sonata were grotesque! For Hamilton,
Webern and Schoenberg were exemplary composers with which I agree
but I could not share Iain's enthusiasm for Berlioz! I still find
the Fantastic Symphony very boring!
Another great asset of Hamilton's character was
his honesty. He had a compulsion for honesty and integrity in
music. He would say that certain events or experiences could move
a composer to put this into his music but that he did not write
under any such impulse directly. He could be moved by the sight
of a fine building just as Berg was moved by the physical beauty
of the tragic 18 year old Manon Gropius. Iain loved the sea and
yet you would be hard pressed to find a sea influence in his music
apart from the magnificent cantata The Bermudas. He had
visited the West Indies several times in the 1960s. But his honesty
went further when he said that some modern composers accept other
styles and yet have no style of their own. And, furthermore, they
had no originality. What they did have was an understanding of
current fashion by which they could milk the public and attain
fame which accolade was not based on the quality of their music.
It may be just as well that Iain lived in New
York for many years since his honesty did not always endear him
to the British music establishment. Iain never hid his sexual
orientation or made excuses or apologies for his own sexuality
and this is another reason why he was deeply respected.
Hamilton began his music studies at the Royal
Academy of Music in 1947 studying composition with William Alwyn
and the piano with Harold Craxton. William Alwyn was a professor
at the RAM from 1926 to 1956 during which time he wrote his first
three symphonies although he began life as a flautist. His symphonies
are fine, the third and fourth being rather special if unashamedly
conservative. Harold Craxton was a legendary piano teacher and
therefore I need say no more here.
On leaving the RAM, Hamilton was awarded the
Dove Prize, the highest award given to any student at the Academy.
He also obtained a B.Mus. at London University in 1950.
After the success of Hamilton's opus 1, there
appeared Clarinet Quintet no.1, Op.2, which was well received
and this was followed by two major works: the Symphony no.1, Op.3
of 1950 and the Piano Concerto, Op.4. The Symphony no. 1 was premiered
in December 1952 with the BBC Scottish SO under Trevor Harvey
and it was taken to Switzerland in 1953 under Colin Davis.
For a composer to have a symphony and a concerto
among his first four works is some achievement and the works are
very fine. Iain was particularly fond of his Piano Concerto. And
to add to his accomplishments his String Quartet no.1, Op.5, won
the Clements Music Prize in 1950. I cannot think of any British
composer who has written a first quartet notable for its great
emotional depth and expressive power. His Nocturnes for clarinet
and piano, Op.6 won the Edwin Evans Memorial Prize and the Symphony
no.2 of 1951 won the Koussevitsky Prize. It was premiered in Cheltenham
in 1953 with the Hallé Orchestra under Sir Adrian Boult.
The Symphony no.1 begins with a call to attention
with strong dissonant material of an epic nature. A rugged four
note theme swaggers in music that is busy and full of life. The
moments of repose are never dull but a relevant contrast and fits
in the whole. At times the music is dark, perhaps sinister, but
the high drama ranges from ebullience to the 'music of the cold
heart'. There are passages of surprising lightness and cheerfulness.
The orchestration is faultless and the final minutes in an ABA
form have tremendous but natural power sandwiching a soaring melody.
It is the splendid use of dissonance that creates the tension
and, while I adore much early and romantic music, it is the dissonance
that produces real tension and excitement. The second movement
starts lugubriously. The brass have a quasi-chorale style which
gives a feeling of eerieness and desolation as later portrayed
with exceptional beauty by high strings. The timpani heartbeats
about three minutes in add to this rich tapestry of emotional
upheaval. The flute theme above the harp is so beautiful that
words will not describe it. The brass continues the lament with
glowing string accompaniment leading to a string theme of gorgeous
beauty. The music seems to want to head for a climax and has a
great feeling of danger about it, but this is avoided and an uneasy
calm takes its place. The third movement is a scherzo-finale with
tremendous wit.
There is probably no more sublime work than Mozart's
Sinfonia Concertante for violin, viola and orchestra K364. With
this glorious masterpiece in mind Iain composed a work with the
same title and for the same resources in 1950 as his opus 8. The
following work was a Sonata for viola and piano, Op.9, showing
the interest composers had in the Cinderella of the orchestra.
Fricker was to write a Viola Concerto in 1952 and Malcolm Arnold
had composed a Viola Sonata in 1948. Following the Sinfonia Concertante
and the Viola Sonata, Iain composed his Variations for solo violin,
Op.11 in 1951. The Clarinet Concerto of 1951 won the Royal Philharmonic
Prize.
In his early career Iain was associated with
SPNM, the Society for the Promotion of New Music, and at concerts
David Dorward remembers that Iain would turn the pages for the
pianist Margaret Kitchin who was married to Howard Hartog of Schotts
who were Hamilton's publishers. At this time Iain was an intense
young man, very talkative, indeed garrulous but his mind was densely
packed with information. He had a fine mind and was a brilliant
lecturer. All his lectures teemed with information, amazing insights
and a masterful delivery.
As already stated, the Symphony no.2 was awarded
the Koussevitsky Prize in 1951, two years before its first performance.
It is, without doubt, a very fine symphony. The opening movement
begins with an expansive lento, the material of which forms the
main allegro section. The second movement presto scherzo is fleet
of foot with a curious alla marcia section and a lyrical andante
section before the main thrust returns. The third movement, adagio,
is beautiful with a glorious subdued end. The finale is too relaxed
for my taste but it progresses into a very exciting piece.
Iain's father died in 1951 and, as a memorial
piece, Hamilton wrote his Violin Concerto no.1, surprisingly conventional
with two allegros distanced by a slow movement.
In March 1952 his ballet Clerk Saunders was
a considerable success. Critics at the time spoke of its great
originality. It is a work that was not given an opus number. And
yet some shallow music lovers and musicologists
referred to Hamilton's work as austere and greatly influenced
by Bartók and Hindemith. As I have often said there is
a lot of rubbish talked about music and sadly some of it is believed.
Coronation year, 1953, saw his third set of variations,
the Symphonic Variations which some writers have wrongly called
a symphony. A symphony it is not. It is a group of twelve variations
successfully exploiting the colours of the orchestra. It was premiered
at the Cheltenham Festival in 1956 under Sir John Barbirolli whose
strength as a conductor was not in modern works but he sometimes
excelled at standard and conventional pieces.
For ten years for 1951 Hamilton lectured at Morley
College (1952 -8) and at London University. He was Chairman of
the Composer's Guild of Great Britain in 1958 and from that year
to 1960 Chairman and secretary of the Institute of Contemporary
Arts and a member of the BBC's Music Advisory panel.
Originality is always a concern to a good composer.
The tonal system was very limited and so Iain turned to serialism,
a form of composition still savaged by shallow music lovers and
musicians alike. Some dismiss it as a system or a device but then
so is the fugue. The fact of the matter is that serialism is a
highly developed craft demanding the greatest skill from a composer
and a discipline not, or seldom, found elsewhere. People who ridicule
this method do not understand it or cannot discipline themselves
and are the poorer music lovers/musicians because of it. Walton
tried it once but it was beyond him … but he was a honest man
and said this.
Hamilton's Three Piano Pieces, Op 30, of 1955,
appeared in an album of piano pieces published by Schott which
also includes pieces by Searle and Fricker. None of the works
are easy (the Searle is very difficult) but Iain's work is direct
and economic and shows incredible self-discipline and skill.
The prejudice at serialism borne out of ignorance
and abuse was to attack Hamilton when his Sinfonia for two orchestras
premiered at the Edinburgh Festival of 1959. Partly influenced
by the composer's admiration for Robert Burns and written in celebration
of the Burns centenary the piece was unrelentingly tough and the
audience hated it. They were expecting something light-hearted
as in the composer's popular Scottish Dances. The President of
the Burns Society led a campaign denouncing the work with vitriol
and gross invective. The conductor at the premiere, Sir Alexander
Gibson was also subject to abuse but had the courage to perform
it again.
During 1959 Iain Hamilton was one of the judges
for the John Davis Prize which was won by David Dorward with his
Diversions for six clarinets. Iain had greatly admired Dorward's
Cassation although the music critic Malcolm Rayment, who
was a fan of Dorward's work, did not like the piece.
In 1961 Hamilton moved to America taking up a
teaching post at Duke University in Northern Carolina. He was
distressed at the recent animosity towards his music in Britain.
He settled in New York and the Americans loved him. Iain was an
expert on many topics from art to literature, architecture to
history and so he was called upon to give lectures and broadcasts
on many subjects. He was professor at Duke during 1966 and 1967
and resident composer at Tanglewood in 1962, the year when Irving
Fine presented his own amazing Symphony and died tragically nine
days later from a serious heart ailment. Hamilton visited other
universities and still returned from time to time to teach at
Glasgow University. The British began to regret their mistreatment
of him and in 1974 he was awarded the Ralph Vaughan Williams Award
as Composer of the Year.
The American years brought forth many fine works.
The Quartet no.2 appeared in 1965 and that year also saw a setting
of Chateaubriand with the Dialogues for coloratura soprano
and small orchestra. Britain, lamenting Hamilton's move to the
USA commissioned Cantos for the 1965 Proms.
Two remarkable operas were the products of the
sixties namely Agamemnon and the Royal Hunt of the Sun
based on Peter Schaffer's play and this magnificent and dramatic
opera was premiered at the London Coliseum in 1977. The operas
have sunk into oblivion and while I realise the cost in mounting
such a production these works are worthy of revival. They contain
some of Hamilton's more dramatic and inspiring music.
When the London Philharmonic Orchestra
commissioned Commedia in 1973 for its fortieth anniversary
it was premiered under Bernard Haitink who showed no affinity
with or understanding of the piece. This is why a premiere is
so vital and the choice of conductor essential. If this premiere
had been given by Del Mar or Pritchard it would have been successful.
One of the most stunning works was the Scena:
Cleopatra for soprano and orchestra. It dates from 1977 and
I was privileged to be at its first performance at a Promenade
Concert in 1978. It was impeccably and dramatically sung by Lois
McDonall, and David Atherton conducted the BBC Symphony Orchestra.
It is a truly great work with a tremendous impact and musically
as perfect as a piece could be.
Although living in America, Iain had been profoundly
impressed by another dramatic scena for high voice and orchestra
namely Oxus by Humphrey Searle premiered in a 1967 Prom
with Gerald English and Norman Del Mar conducting, a work which
Peter Pears said was beyond his ability and impossible to sing.
Cleopatra is brilliantly written, totally satisfying both
musically and aurally and it puts some much British music to shame.
Hamilton's vocal line is superb as it is, for example, in some
of Tippett's song cycles. Cleopatra received an extended
ovation and the rest of the programme was inconsequential. A truly
great work!
The move back into a tonal tradition was a mistake.
His atonal and, indeed, his serial works are his finest but his
later works may have been motivated by a series of religious choral
works which he may have felt needed a tonal basis. The simplicity
of the a capella works also added to this premise as shown in
the Requiem of 1979 and the Mass in A of 1980. His final two symphonies
are tonal or, rather, exploit tonal relationships..
However, the opera Anna Karenina of 1978
is a very fine achievement albeit limited by tonal restrictions.
It was first produced in London in 1981 and it brilliantly highlights
the emotional content of Tolstoy's novel. Anna was married to
a man who loved her but he was dull and so she embarked on a torrid
affair to obtain excitement being unsatisfied with her existing
security. The affair dishonours her husband, brings shame upon
her son, herself and the respective families. Eventually she realises
that this utter disgrace is entirely her own fault and commits
suicide by falling under a train.
The Symphony no. 3 was completed in New York
late in 1980. It was premiered by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra
under Roderick Brydon. It is also work of tonal relationships
and may have its root in G. It is a lyrical work scored for double
woodwind , two horns and strings. The opening movement is a leisurely
allegretto followed by a scherzo in C with a waltz-like section.
The andante is marked tenderly and sadly and the finale is mainly
brisk. The work is lyrical and of a mainly gentle nature, sometimes
serene, well written but lacking in any dramatic content.
The Symphony no. 4 was another commission and
premiered in 1982 by the Scottish National Orchestra under Sir
Alexander Gibson. It is a highly personal work dedicated to his
special friend as was his Requiem of 1979. The opening movement
is a painful lament in which he pours out his soul in grief and
in simple diatonic style. His sense of loss is also shown in the
second movement with a very touching rocking sound as one would
nurse a dying child and there are heartbeat timpani strokes. Desolation
continues in the third movement. This is no scherzo; this is no
laughing matter. The finale begins with a funeral march and a
solo trumpet seems to herald The Last Post. The music is
both melancholic and, perhaps, slightly malicious. An andante
passage follows based on material from the Lux Aeternam from
the Requiem. This is a valediction to one he loved and to the
symphony itself. It is very moving but uncomfortable and this
may explain why it has found few friends. To add to its dismissal
it was played at the Proms the evening after the premiere of Hugh
Wood's Symphony which was comparatively cheerful and this added
to the lesser reception of Iain's work which was traditional and
was regarded as an anti-climax following Wood's symphony. The
consensus of opinion and of the press was that this was bad planning
by the BBC.
The return to his original style of atonal and
dissonant music is shown in his truly superb Piano Concerto no.
2 of 1987. This is a tremendous piece of rhythmic drive and energy,
unleashed power and demanding bravura. And it is a real concerto
where the piano sparkles and the orchestra has an integral part
to play.
Iain wrote much fine chamber music. Of particular
note is the Cello Sonata no. 1 of 1958. It is cast in seven sections
of which sections one and seven are cadenzas for both instruments
while the second is a cadenza for the cello and the third a cadenza
for the piano. Its greatness lies, among other things, in its
originality and there are so many composers who have no originality
in their works.
The String Quartet no. 2 of 1965 is a classic
example of how to write for this medium and the Octet of 1983
is notable for its immediacy and economy. Influenced by Searle’s
Variations and Finale Op.34, the first movement treats each player
as a soloist. I was very aggrieved to read that someone had likened
the piece to Schubert! I suppose some people may claim that his
Octet for strings of 1954 was influenced by Mendelssohn!
The String Quartet no.3 is another fine work
but its episodic nature hinders its overall structure. Sometimes
brilliant craftsmanship gets in the way of inspiration!
There were a series of organ works: Fanfares
and Variants of 1960, Aubade of 1965 and Threnos
in time of war of 1966 .
The return to tonality also introduced a few
other weaknesses into Iain's music and these include the use of
quotes from other composers. In Circus for two trumpets
and orchestra there are quotes from Berlioz, Liszt, Mahler and
Paganini. Other works quote from music of the nineteenth century.
Shostakovich did this in his curious Symphony no. 15 and the only
memorable moments are the William Tell extract. Incidentally,
Circus is not a concerto.
In the last twenty five years of his life his
main occupation was in writing opera. Tamburlaine dates
from 1976, Anna Karenina from 1978, Raleigh's Dream
was premiered in Los Angeles in 1983, Lancelot was
commissioned by the Arundel Festival in 1985, The Tragedy of
Macbeth in 1990 and London's Fair in 1992.
He did compose other things such as the Bulgarian
Invocation for orchestra, The Wild Garden for clarinet
and piano, London for piano and orchestra and Le jardin
de Monet for piano premiered by the superb Katharina Wolpe.
In 1995 he composed a fine orchestral showpiece The Transit
of Jupiter for the sixtieth birthday celebrations of the BBC
Scottish Symphony Orchestra. But, again for a composer dedicated
to structural integrity, this piece is in eighteen sections lasting
about sixteen minutes and it is somewhat dark and grim. It was
premiered by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra under Martyn
Brabbins and David Dorward was present who tells me that Hamilton
took a bow on the stage 'looking old and very sad.'
He drew my attention to the sixteen composers
interviewed by R Murray Schafer in his book British Composers
in Interview (Faber, 1960). Iain said, "Between the sixteen
of us we chose fifty one favourite composers and Elgar was not
mentioned once in that list! Britten was only mentioned once and
that by his one-time friend Lennox Berkeley. I am glad that Purcell
is mentioned. The most admired composers were Bach, Beethoven
and Schoenberg who between them had 27% of the votes. All the
rest were much further down the scale. That speaks volumes!"
For the last twenty years of his life Hamilton
lived in a top apartment in Chelsea where I sometimes visited
him. We shared many things together. He was as honest as
ever. He lamented conductors who took liberties with scores and
were presented as film stars. He was irritated by the adulation
given to British composers whose fame rested on matters other
than their music. He was always interested in new music and was
never a snob. Iain would ask me to play some of his piano music
to him. He took a genuine interest in my work and my writings
about composers and warned me that my honesty would get me into
trouble. He would ask for recordings of music that I wrote about.
He was deeply moved by John Veale's Violin Concerto. "I could
not write like that but I am glad someone has," he told me. His
own Violin Concerto no. 2 Amphion is also a good piece.
He found delight in rare modern music and wondered why it was
not appreciated and performed more often when "so much rubbish
is regularly performed and recorded commercially." He would talk
to me for hours about a painting and analysed a Velasquez for
two hours with me...simply fascinating! We did not agree on all
things. He was not interested in the countryside finding it desperately
dull compared to the throb of a city.
He died in London on 21 July 2000. At his best
he was a great composer but my own judgment is that he, being
deeply offended by hostility which he received, felt he had to
debase himself to write more acceptable music and return to tonality
where his gifts of originality and drama could not be expressed
as effectively. Generally speaking, his early works are his best.
Not only was Iain a very fine composer but a
very good friend.
This article was written over a period of twenty
years
Copyright David C F Wright 1976, renewed 2000.
This article or any part of it , however small, must not be copied,
downloaded, stored in any retrieval system or used in any way
without the prior written permission of the author. Failure to
comply with these legal requirements will be actionable at law.
The author has abridged and edited this article for this website.
see also biographical
article by Paul Conway
