Even the Best

Repertoire Director was a very important post in World Record Club,  carrying with it two major responsibilities.  The first was the accumulation of sample records or catalogues of the recorded material available to us from the many record companies we represented;  the second was the timely shipping in by air of the tapes or mothers of those records subsequently selected for release – a very important function, as you can imagine.

The first Repertoire Director was Alex Berry (of whom more later), and when he resigned in order to live in Spain he was replaced by Dianne Ellis.

On this particular occasion it was Dianne who came into my office, record in one hand and newspaper clipping in the other.  “You’ll be interested in this.”

This was an account in a New York paper of an unusual record released by Everest (whose releases were exclusively ours in Australia).  It was a live (probably illegally recorded) performance in Russia somewhere of Emil Gilels playing Tchaikovsky’s Second Piano Concerto, with (from memory) Svetlanov conducting.

The circumstance which made the recording unusual was that on side two – doubtless the third or fourth movement – Gilels completely lost his way, faltered, stopped, played a few tentative false notes, started again, stopped – all of this with the orchestra in tatters and the conductor trying desperately to pull things together.  It was a crucially embarrassing minute or so and must have caused consternation (or maybe hilarity) in whatever concert hall it was being furtively recorded.

Everest, in an accompanying letter, advised us that the record was achieving excellent sales in the States and recommended that we consider it for the Club.

I wasn’t so sure.  I badly wanted the Tchaikovsy 2nd which I really liked – and none of the companies we represented had it in their catalogues.  But I wasn’t happy about perpetuating Gilels’ memory lapse.  Anyway, I rejected it on ethical grounds.

A few weeks later Dianne advised me that E.M.I. (who didn’t have the 2nd in their catalogue either) had asked if we’d be willing to let them release the Everest.  I agreed of course – but said I hoped they wouldn’t make too much of Gilels’ lapse.

In the event they didn’t even mention it.  The record was released in the normal way, and was widely reviewed.  I can’t claim to have seen all the reviews, but the ones I did see didn’t even mention the passage in question.  Draw your own conclusions! (I later got a 2nd when we acquired Australian rights to the German label Bertelsmann.  The allegation that we only went after this massive catalogue because it included the 2nd is without foundation.)

Vive La France

Alex Berry was French-born and very fluent in both the written and spoken word, so when we decided to go after the French label Erato of Paris he was invaluable.

Amongst Alex’s duties was the running of The Record Society – into which some mildly malicious people even on my own staff alleged went the music I couldn’t whistle.  Alex particularly wanted Erato of course because it possessed an unparalleled collection of baroque works, and a very high standard of recording.

Anyway, I wrote a long letter which I hoped eloquently outlined the financial rewards Erato might expect to achieve in partnership with us, which Alex translated into the French and which we sent off more in hope than expectation.

Voila!  A week or so later a reply landed on my desk – also long, and also in French.  Meanwhile Alex had taken annual leave would you believe?  You just can’t trust the French.

Oh – yes, we got it, but I had to get Alex back to the office before I could be absolutely sure. *

Incidentally, of the 25 or more record companies world-wide we represented, we had written contracts only with Erato of Paris, and one U.S. company (I think Westminster from memory).  All the rest were hand-shake deals – and even the Erato and U.S. contracts lapsed and no one ever bothered to renew them, we just kept going the same old way.  I don’t think that would happen in today’s world.

* When I finally met the Erato people in Paris several years later they told me the fact that we had written in such fluent French was the major reason they decided to team up with us.

Comic Cuts

One of the staff from the shop downstairs was ushered into my office at Hartwell on one occasion;  she was very excited:  “Guess what?  Barry Humphries has just become a member!”

I congratulated her on her achievement, and was forcibly reminded of it less than a week later, lunching with my young family at a city restaurant, when Barry Humphries and his family came in and were seated a few tables away.

At a convenient moment when Barry was looking the other way I arranged with a waiter to deliver a note to him, reading ‘Congratulations on joining World Record Club’. 

Barry looked wildly about,  eyes rolling,  almost in shock - but no one gave me away, and he still has no idea who sent it – I hope.

Mistaken Identity

The conductor Anthony Collins achieved fame for his Decca recording of the seven Sibelius symphonies.  They were a really tremendous critical and popular success.  Anthony himself was something of an eccentric:  he wore a specially tailored garment which always seemed to me to be a cross between a waistcoat and a dressing gown;  I think it was his own exclusive fashion – he wore it in one material or another (he quite liked checks) whenever I met him.  In other respects however he was perfectly normal.

I asked him once had he always had a liking for Sibelius.

“No,” he said.  “No – I’d never really listened to him – I’d certainly never conducted him.  I’m blowed if I know why Decca chose me to do it.  I think they mistook me for someone else.”  Here he looked at me somewhat moodily I thought.  “Accidents will happen, you know.”

Clean Bowled

I suppose Australian funnyman Dick Bentley is almost forgotten now – but in his time he was one of the most recognizable figures in Britain.  I got to know him because he made a couple of children’s records for us, and we became quite friendly largely because of a shared interest in cricket – Australian cricket, that is.

Australia were playing Surrey at the Oval, and Dick and I went along – sat in the outer with a thousand poms around us, and watched Laker take (from memory) nineteen wickets for practically no runs.

It felt like ninety wickets – every time Laker took another one every true Englishman in the crowd turned and smiled at us.

“It’s good to be recognized,” Dick said.

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Stories from the Club - Part Three