Llangollen International Musical Eisteddfod has a special and personal resonance for me going back many years. As a child, a day trip from Coed Talon Primary School first introduced me to this colourful, cultural phenomenon which, to an eleven year old, presented a fascinating mixture of strange languages, foreign visitors, exotic costumes, autographs to collect and sugary doughnuts.
A little later, as a teenager, my energy was channelled and focused by the allure of the Llangollen piano competitions – in 1974 the Junior Piano Solo first caught my eye through a great friend and musician, Tim Jones, who was also competing, and he suggested I should try. A little later, the Adult Piano Solo looked equally attractive, fired up as I was by earlier success at the first time of asking. It seemed for a time – a Golden Age – that the month of July would herald an annual family pilgrimage from Treuddyn, over the Horseshoe Pass, to face an array of adjudicators. Kenneth Wright, Solon Michalaedes, Sir Thomas Armstrong, Roy Bohana and Arnold Lewis were to be names I would remember for rewarding me, or not, for my various piano performances on the legendary stage.
During this period, the organ was firmly established as my first instrument of choice among my musical studies, but it never occurred to me that there would ever be a place or opportunity to perform at Llangollen – so close to home, and yet so international. The first and unexpected chance to do so came along with an invitation from the Music Office to become the Official Organist in July 2001, with a brief from Eulanwy Davies to provide live music for the audience to enjoy from 8.30 am, playing for the early arrivals; during the day between competitions; filling gaps for missing competitors; music before the concerts; the National Anthems; the audience hymn singing and Auld Lang Syne.
Annually I have come armed with music cases crammed to bursting with organ music to fulfil this task, keeping in mind what to play and when, what the audience will enjoy, not playing something too often during the week, always leaving some repertoire untouched until the approach of Friday or Saturday.
As this role developed, it became apparent that some pleasant idiosyncratic elements would make themselves known. Early morning arrivals have the pleasure of observing, at their work, the mighty Floral Committee, tending the epic displays. The organ has traditionally always been located in the front among the flowers and, consequently, I have had occasion to compete for personal space with some inquisitive bumble bees and butterflies during some Handel organ concerto. Visitors and acquaintances have also made their presence felt, literally, at rather demanding moments – even when my brain is fully engaged with a Bach Fantasia – with a hearty slap on both shoulders and a “Well done!” or, during an all-hands-and-feet-experience fugue at full steam ahead, some casual remark might be, “Did you enjoy last night’s concert, Christopher?” placing their face between mine and the music!
Loyal audience members love their traditional seating positions – like children in a classroom – and I soon learned which of them had a good supply of toffees or Mint Imperials to keep me going.
The stage presenters are always a joy, and regularly give the audience a good ‘heads up’ when the organ is about to begin. The late Robin Jones encouraged the hymn singing by assuming the role of conductor and enjoying every minute. The best ever audience singing I experienced was in July 2008 at the Choir of the World. While the adjudicators were out, 4,000 people needed little encouragement to raise the roof with ‘Calon Lan’ and ‘I bob un sydd ffyddlon’ sung like never before.
Live broadcasting on S4C from the Eisteddfod brings its surprises too: a young USA teenager in 2001 had lost his folk song piano accompanist, and I was called upon to play for him at four minutes notice – two to practise with him, the next two to get on stage and play for him, knowing the cameras were ‘on’. On one occasion, my wallet had been found on the floor beside the organ. My mother was watching on TV at home: Robin Jones announced the owner’s name, and Mam found out I’d lost it before I knew it was missing! Another year, BBC Breakfast was broadcasting its morning weather forecast from the Eisteddfod field. An alarmed stage hand hurriedly asked me to stop the organ playing I had just started, as it was clashing with the forecaster’s commentary. But, too late, I had been heard live across the United Kingdom!
Do you remember me playing at Llangollen? The organ is sadly no longer part of the Eisteddfod so I'd love to hear your memories of earlier times.
A little later, as a teenager, my energy was channelled and focused by the allure of the Llangollen piano competitions – in 1974 the Junior Piano Solo first caught my eye through a great friend and musician, Tim Jones, who was also competing, and he suggested I should try. A little later, the Adult Piano Solo looked equally attractive, fired up as I was by earlier success at the first time of asking. It seemed for a time – a Golden Age – that the month of July would herald an annual family pilgrimage from Treuddyn, over the Horseshoe Pass, to face an array of adjudicators. Kenneth Wright, Solon Michalaedes, Sir Thomas Armstrong, Roy Bohana and Arnold Lewis were to be names I would remember for rewarding me, or not, for my various piano performances on the legendary stage.
During this period, the organ was firmly established as my first instrument of choice among my musical studies, but it never occurred to me that there would ever be a place or opportunity to perform at Llangollen – so close to home, and yet so international. The first and unexpected chance to do so came along with an invitation from the Music Office to become the Official Organist in July 2001, with a brief from Eulanwy Davies to provide live music for the audience to enjoy from 8.30 am, playing for the early arrivals; during the day between competitions; filling gaps for missing competitors; music before the concerts; the National Anthems; the audience hymn singing and Auld Lang Syne.
Annually I have come armed with music cases crammed to bursting with organ music to fulfil this task, keeping in mind what to play and when, what the audience will enjoy, not playing something too often during the week, always leaving some repertoire untouched until the approach of Friday or Saturday.
As this role developed, it became apparent that some pleasant idiosyncratic elements would make themselves known. Early morning arrivals have the pleasure of observing, at their work, the mighty Floral Committee, tending the epic displays. The organ has traditionally always been located in the front among the flowers and, consequently, I have had occasion to compete for personal space with some inquisitive bumble bees and butterflies during some Handel organ concerto. Visitors and acquaintances have also made their presence felt, literally, at rather demanding moments – even when my brain is fully engaged with a Bach Fantasia – with a hearty slap on both shoulders and a “Well done!” or, during an all-hands-and-feet-experience fugue at full steam ahead, some casual remark might be, “Did you enjoy last night’s concert, Christopher?” placing their face between mine and the music!
Loyal audience members love their traditional seating positions – like children in a classroom – and I soon learned which of them had a good supply of toffees or Mint Imperials to keep me going.
The stage presenters are always a joy, and regularly give the audience a good ‘heads up’ when the organ is about to begin. The late Robin Jones encouraged the hymn singing by assuming the role of conductor and enjoying every minute. The best ever audience singing I experienced was in July 2008 at the Choir of the World. While the adjudicators were out, 4,000 people needed little encouragement to raise the roof with ‘Calon Lan’ and ‘I bob un sydd ffyddlon’ sung like never before.
Live broadcasting on S4C from the Eisteddfod brings its surprises too: a young USA teenager in 2001 had lost his folk song piano accompanist, and I was called upon to play for him at four minutes notice – two to practise with him, the next two to get on stage and play for him, knowing the cameras were ‘on’. On one occasion, my wallet had been found on the floor beside the organ. My mother was watching on TV at home: Robin Jones announced the owner’s name, and Mam found out I’d lost it before I knew it was missing! Another year, BBC Breakfast was broadcasting its morning weather forecast from the Eisteddfod field. An alarmed stage hand hurriedly asked me to stop the organ playing I had just started, as it was clashing with the forecaster’s commentary. But, too late, I had been heard live across the United Kingdom!
Do you remember me playing at Llangollen? The organ is sadly no longer part of the Eisteddfod so I'd love to hear your memories of earlier times.
