This is a blog about music, photography, history, and culture. These are photographs from my collection that tell a story about lost time and forgotten music. Mike Brubaker
Some species of instrumentalists are hard to spot in the wild as they are few in number and very wary of photographers.
Others are often mistaken for players of more common instruments and it requires careful scrutiny to discern their unique features and confirm an identification.
Though their natural habitat covers a broad range, in some regions they are more difficult to find. It helps that sometimes these rare creatures mix in with flocks of other species which makes it easier to observe their distinctive appearance and unusual habits.
Today I present three antique portraits of singular English musicians of the double reed variety, two male bassoonists and one female oboist.
My first portrait is a gentleman dressed in a formal suit and playing a bassoon. His instrument gives the impression that he is a tall man, but since a bassoon is 4 feet 5 inches (1.34m) long when folded up, [8 feet, 4 inches (2.54m) when unfolded], I calculate that his height is actually about 5 feet, 1 inch (1.55m) which a stature not much more that his instrument. What I especially like about this bassoonist's photo is that from the tight expression of his mouth I'm pretty sure he was actually blowing a note when the photo was taken. Because he wears a three-piece suit and not a bandsman's uniform I think he is a member of an orchestra. Is he a professional or amateur musician? That's hard to say, though he looks to be a capable musician. After searching newspaper accounts for a bassoonist in the vicinity of Hereford, I was unable to find anyone who deserved mention, but this is not surprising since bassoonist rarely get the spotlight.
His bassoon lacks the complex keywork of a modern bassoon so I believe it is a transitional design that evolved from the earlier classical era instrument which only had a few keys. Bassoons are made of hard maple with a conical bore that is folded at the bottom. Because of its length as a bass woodwind instrument the tone holes are farther apart than on a short instruments like an oboe or clarinet. Keys allow a player's fingers to cover a wider spread of holes than they might otherwise be unable to reach.
This sepia-tone print is mounted on a carte de visite card, 4½ x 2½ inches (11.4 x 6.3 cm) with a plain cream color matte and square corners. It's a style that comes from the early years of CdVs so I believe this musician had his photo taken around 1865. The photographer's logo is stamped on the back: Mr. & Mrs. Bustin, Photographers, Hereford printed around an illustration of an artist's palette and brushes.
After research I determined that this was the studio of Richard Britton Bustin and his wife Mary Ann (aka Marian or Marion) Warren Bustin. According to census records, Richard was born in Barnstaple, Devon in 1836 and his wife Mary was born in London in 1837. They settled in Hereford where in the 1861 census Richard's occupation was as Master of a School for Artists. Intriguingly his wife also had an occupation listed as Photographer.
In the 1871 census, Marian Bustin, age 37, and her son, Richard S. Bustin, age 18, were both recorded as photographers, though Marian/Mary's husband, Richard Bustin Sr., is absent from this census. He returned in 1881 and now Richard B. Bustin and Marion Bustin were respectively: Art Master/Teacher and Artist. By the time of this census the Bustins were parents of 13 children. I found references to later photos marked "Richard Bustin & Son" so I feel sure my bassoonist dates from 1860 to 1869 before Richard Bustin Jr. became a partner, with 1863-65 more likely because of the simple card mount.
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The next musician is a woman with an oboe, pictured on a larger cabinet card mount. She is seated at an ornately carved desk or side table and dressed in a beautifully embroidered blouse with huge leg-of-mutton sleeves (also known in French as the gigot sleeve) Her instrument is neatly held upright as if she is attentively listening to a conductor's instruction. She appears to be in her 20s and has rings on both hands, so I assume she is married.
An oboe is typically made from Grenadilla, also known as African blackwood, which is the same timber used to make clarinets. The black color of both instruments is the reason photos of oboes are regularly mistaken for clarinet. However the instruments are very different. The standard B-flat clarinet is slightly longer, has a cylindrical bore with a flared bell, and most noticeable, has a single-reed at the top. An oboe is made in the key of C with a conical bore that begins with a very narrow tube at the top where a double-reed is mounted and then gradually widens to a small round bulb at the bottom. The modern oboe, which I think is pictured here, has 45 key mechanisms.
In the 19th century some bands might include a single oboe, or sometimes two, to play melodies mainly from operatic repertoire, but during this era, all-female wind bands, unlike in America and Germany, were very rare in Britain, so I believe it more likely that she was a member of a women's orchestra.
The photographer was A. Hamilton & Sons of Paul SI, Kingsdown, Bristol in Gloucestershire, a short distance south of Hereford across the River Severn. The photo has no notes or imprint on the back, but a list of historical Bristol photographers dates Allan Hamilton & Son from 1896 to 1910.
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My third portrait is another CdV photo and it shows a young bassoonist dressed in a military bandsman's uniform. His short tunic has traditional swallow-tail epaulets on his shoulders which was a uniform feature used by military bands of many European countries. He looks young with a whisp of a light color mustache, around age 20 or even 18.
Since this photo was purchased from a British dealer, I'm fairly confident that he is a British bandsman, though there are not enough clues to identify his unit. The backdrop is crude drapery or a blanket and I think he is seated outdoors on a grass lawn. I imagine this is the work of an enterprising photographer who set up a simple stage near a park bandstand to take individual photos of bandsmen after a concert.
There is nothing on the back of the photo but the photographer left an embossed mark, E. SEARS, on the front lower left corner, which I believe is an English surname. However it is too common a name to get a better fix on the location. This CdV card has rounded corners and a line border which was used from 1870s onwards. In America the CdV format stopped being used in the early 1890s but in Britain it was still popular up to the 1900s. My guess it that he dates from roughly 1885 to 1900.
It takes great patience and perseverance
to track down sightings of these
these curious instrumentalists.
Compared to other species of the woodwind family
like flutists, clarinetists, and even hybrids like saxophonists,
the historical photographic evidence
for bassoonists and oboes is very slim. But once you know how to recognize them it is very rewarding to capture even a glimpse of one.
A skilled portrait photographer always tries to satisfy a
customer. Yet when taking photographs of children a photographer
recognizes that their clientele is not the child but its parents. The
photographer provides only the camera. A child's wardrobe, hair, and
accessories are mother's responsibility.
In the brief time that a photographer has charge of an unfamiliar
child, they must quickly arrange the subject, position the lights,
focus the camera, and wait for that perfect moment to release the
shutter.
Even the best cameramen know they can command the attention of a
young boy or girl for just an instant. Any delay brings unwanted
movement, a fuzzy eye blink or blurring shudder. Likewise undue
haste might miss a candid gaze or youthful smile.
If the photographer's timing is good they capture a perfect picture
for the parents. An image of childhood yet one full of blooming
personality and brimming with a parent's hope for the future.
Today I present four beautiful studio photos of handsome young boys holding musical
instruments that I'm fairly certain none of them could actually
play.
The first little boy sits on a hard wooden chair that is too tall for his feet
to reach the floor. His long hair has been neatly curled and oiled as he gazes
at someone to the side of the camera. Mother maybe? He clutches a slide
trombone in a tight two-handed grip. The instrument gleams in the studio light
showing off its elaborate engraving on the bell. He looks like a child who has
been told several times, "Be very careful of Daddy's trombone. Don't drop
it!"
A trombone's slide has seven positions that lengthen the instrument and give
it a full complement of musical notes. It requires a fairly long arm stretch
which would clearly be beyond the reach of this boy. My guess is that dad (or maybe
mum) aspired that their son might soon take up the instrument. But looking
at this kid, I have a hunch he chose something different. Unfortunately his
postcard is unmarked so all I know is that it was taken somewhere in
America around 1900-1910.
* * *
The next boy is about the same age, around four or five maybe. He is dressed
in a dark sailor suit with short knee pants. He stands on a fur rug in front
of a large wooden bench and holds a shiny cornet. Once again the lighting
picks up the fancy engraving on the bell. His short hair is cut in a military
style and pinned to his blouse is a small medal. It resembles the crossed guns
insignia worn by a U.S. Navy Gunner's Mate, though it might be the crossed
cannon of the U.S. Army artillery or crossed rifles of the infantry.
The way the boy holds the cornet is a not the usual way a real cornet player would hold the instrument. But more critical is that his fingers are too small to mash the valve buttons. So I think this was a picture taken for dad, maybe a sailor serving
aboard a navy ship, who also played the cornet.
This postcard does have a note on the back but sadly the clues are incomplete.
There is a date, April 15: a name, Chas. Erb.; a place,
Green Wick, K-town, and a mystery number, –16.
Without a year we have only the little corner triangles in the AZO stamp logo to
go by. When two point up and two point down it is roughly a photo paper style
that the AZO company produced from 1918 to 1930.
The forename Chas. is Charles, but is Erb. a full surname or an abbreviation? It is an uncommon name in Ancestry.com.
And the place name doesn't match anything in Google Maps. There is no Green Wick, though plenty of Greenwichs. Initially I though K-Town was a short name for Kansas City, but Wikipedia has an entry for K-Town which does not include it. Of the cities in the United States with that nickname are Kaysville, Utah; Knoxville, Tennessee; Kenosha, Wisconsin; and Kearny, New Jersey. My guess is that it signifies Kearny, NJ which is on the Hudson River east of New York City, and near a major naval shipyard.
_ _ _
* * *
The next postcard photo is of an older boy, somewhere between 8 and 12 years old. He is dressed in a proper bandsman's uniform and is holding a bassoon that is an inch or two taller. A bassoon is an unusual instrument to find in a small town band. Typically it was played only in large military bands. It's a bass instrument with complicated keys that require a wide finger stretch. This boy's hands are again too small to properly cover the finger holes and keys.
His cap, and braided cord accoutrements are of a military style but a closer look shows his tunic sleeves are folded under and his trousers cuffs are tucked into his socks. This was clearly a borrowed uniform and bassoon to stage a photo for Dad or Grandpa. The photo's location may not even be a photographer's studio but instead it was taken behind a concert stage or even in a residential home.
There are no marks on this postcard, but the letters, MINN are on the tunic's collar. Minnesota? I date the photo to around 1905-1915. He seems a sharp lad that any dad would be proud to see playing in a band.
* * *
The last boy is the oldest in time, though he is only about age 5 or 6. His picture is on a small CdV photo, a carte de viste, taken in the 1870s or 80s. He stands with a tenorhorn in a photographer's studio in front of a crudely painted backdrop. His hair is neatly combed and he wears a sturdy corduroy jacket with knee pants. It's not impossible that he played this instrument, a member of the saxhorn/euphonium brass family. I have several photographs of family bands which had young siblings who played a tenorhorn. However he just doesn't have the air of a real brass player so I'm uncertain.
However his small size certainly fits with my group of diminutive pseudo-musicians. The photo has a backstamp of the photographer, Adolph Rapp of Glasgow, Kentucky. This town is about halfway between Nashville, Tennessee and Louisville, Kentucky. In 1870 Glasgow, KY had a population of 733 residents. It jumped 106.0% to 1,510 in 1880 and then to 2,051 in 1890, so this photo likely comes from Glasgow's boom years.
I can't finish this post about young non-musicians without showing off what talented kids are capable of when they get the right musical training.
Top hats. Where have they gone? Today's modern orchestra musicians, that is the gentlemen in the symphony, still dress for concerts in a formal suit of white tie and tailcoat that has changed little since the early 19th century.
Yet we got rid of the hat. Why?
Sometimes called a stove pipe hat, a topper, or a zylinder in German, a top hat must have been a lot of bother to keep clean. As its shape does not easily balance on a coat hook, was there a special wardrobe shelf backstage for musicians to store them? Did men write their names inside the hats so as to keep them from getting mixed up?
Inquiring minds want to know.
And what were the rules? Surely top hats were worn only for outdoor performances. But even for morning concerts? Was it bowler hats until 4:55 and top hats
after 5?
And what about top hat styles? Shiny silk or matte finish? Wide band or narrow? Gray for spring/summer and black for autumn/winter? Could a section player's hat be taller than the leader's? Did players keep their sheet music rolled up in the hat?
And did the tradition of musical top hats stop
altogether at one time, or did some musicians hold out longer for the old manly fashion?
This dapper bunch of 24 top hatted gentlemen were called the
West Riding Imperial Orchestra, Military Section. Garratt, Phot.
They were musicians from West Riding County
in Yorkshire, England, most likely the city of Leeds, which is where their postcard was printed.
Though captioned an "orchestra", there is just one string player, a double bassist, so this ensemble is actually a concert band instrumentation with flute, oboe, five clarinets, alto saxophone, two bassoons (a mark of a military band), two horns (the second one hidden behind the first), two cornets, three trombones, euphonium, two tubas, string bass, and two percussionists. (The second drummer is the musician without instrument, third row right. Perhaps he played the bell chimes on the left.)
This post is a slight improvement on a post originally published on 18 December 2009 as Men with Hats.
With their high class chapeaus this band bears a strong resemblance to The Band at Scarborough Spa which I wrote about in May 2012.
Though I've been unable to find anything specific on the West Riding Imperial Orchestra, I believe their photo dates from around 1905-1914. At first I assumed they were standing at a band stand, but I now think the West Riding Imperial Orchestra's photo was taken in the Canal Gardens of Roundhay Park in Leeds, on the steps to John Barran's Drinking Fountain.
Canal Gardens, Roundhay Park, Leeds Source: The Internets
A tiny bit of curved dentil molding appears in between the tuba and trombone on the top row right. I think it matches the arched drinking fountains at Roundhay Park in Leeds.
And speaking of drinking, did the Military Section of the West Riding Imperial Orchestra have a favorite pub? Were top hats allowed?
This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday where everyone loves a brass band.
What can be more relaxing on an afternoon by the lake than listening to the mellifluous sound of a bassoon?
Why listening to two bassoons!
This anonymous double reed duo and their charming assistant sit on a weedy lawn by some unknown body of water.
The date is unknown but to judge by the two gentlemen's wool trousers, waistcoats, and pocket watch they are lost in time somewhere between 1910 and 1930.
They have the look of professional bassoonists who might be practicing any number of orchestral duets for bassoons. But I'm sure they would recognize the familiar music performed in this video.
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Georgie Powell & Thomas Dulfer perform Largo al factorum from The Barber of Seville
composed by Gioachino Rossini and arranged for two bassoons by Bram van Sambeek.
This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday where if the fish aren't biting, there's always a good story to tell.
A double-reed duo. Two gents sit with woodwind instruments that were once regularly found in military bands. especially those with a tradition that preferred bassoons over saxophones.
Of course every band needs two drums and a tuba to keep the beat steady.
Euphoniums or tenor horns cover the middle voices in a band.
But clarinets add a higher and more nimble voice for a proper range of wind instruments.
Of course cornets always cover the melody, while the little E-flat clarinet gingerly handles the high descant obbligato. That leaved the trombones to manage the spit and polish.
These 24 musicians were the Cycling Sports Band of 1910.
They are dressed in their best Sunday suits, and, with the exception of the younger lads in flat caps, they all wear bowler hats. They stand around heavy wooden music stands
on an simple raised platform with a crowd of spectators moving around behind.
There are no bicycles visible but presumably the band is the entertainment for an athletic event at an unidentified location, but likely somewhere in the West Midlands of England, as the photographer left his name printed on the back.
Clarkes Windsor Portrait Galleries Redditch
Redditch is a town in Worcestershire, England about 15 miles south of Birmingham. At one time in the 1870s, needlemaking was Redditch's principal industry supplying 90% of the world's need for needles.
The band's postcard conveniently has the year 1910 written next to the activity Cycling Sports. But proving their identity is not easy, even though the search term "cycling sports" was fairly common in British newspapers to describe various competitive cycling races. And those events often included a band to provide extra entertainment.
So we will just have to enjoy their array of bowler hats.
However I can submit a report on a decision made in 1910 by the Judge of the Selby County Court, North Yorkshire on a personal injuries case involving a band musician, cycling sports, and a non-starter pistol.
Subject, Place, and Singularity. Those are the qualities that make a premium collectable photograph.
The unusual subject here is a gentleman holding a bassoon, an instrument rarely seen in cabinet card portrait photos.
The curious singularity is his magnificent long mustache curled like the bocal on his instrument.
But it is the unexpected place where the image was taken that makes this a unique photograph.
Australia.
The man sits in a relaxed pose, cross legged on a low chair, gazing to his right. He is dressed in formal white tie and tail coat, with a boutonniere on his lapel. His oiled hair is short and carefully groomed, and his imperial style mustache/beard gives him a debonair almost rakish air. His bassoon lays diagonally at rest across his thigh showing the double reed, bocal, and keywork but not the bell.
It is the work of a skilled photographer,
Instantaneous Portraits Falk 496 George St. Sydney.
Australia.
There are countless cabinet card portraits from the 1880s and 1890s of gentlemen with impressive hair styles. But very few of those men also played bassoon. And even fewer lived in Sydney, Australia's largest city. This musician's photo wins the trifecta of exceptional qualities for a collectable photograph.
In the 19th century Australia did have very fine photographers in the big cities like
Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, and Perth, and vintage Australian photographs can be found on the American antique
market, though not in any great number, usually dozens rather than
hundreds. This musician's portrait was taken by Melbourne-born photographerHenry Walter Barnett (18620–1934) who trained in London. In 1887 he returned to Australia and opened Falk Studios on George Street, Sydney where he became renown for his photo artistry, and expensive fees. Ten years later Barnett left for London again to establish an upscale portrait studio at Hyde Park Corner where his customers included the royal family and prominent members of English society. With Barnett's studio work so well documented, it seems safe to date this gentleman's cabinet card in the decade from 1887 to 1897. Yet clearly he paid handsomely for a quality photograph from a leading Sydney photographer.
There is no marking on the photo's back. No studio imprint, no name or date. If the man played the violin or cornet it would not be an unusual photo, but it is his bassoon, the bass instrument of the woodwind family, and the fact that he is in Australia that makes this a remarkably rare vintage photo. Australia is a very big place, but in the 1890s its population was proportionately very small, and well-dressed bassoonists could only be a very, very small fraction of that number.
So how many bassoonists got their name in an Australian newspaper?
In the 1890s?
Not surprisingly, very few.
But curiously one bassoonist
was mentioned more often than expected.
Sydney Morning Herald
10 October 1891
In October 1891 the Sydney Morning Herald ran an advertisement for a Grand Invitation Matinee Concert given by Signor Angelo Casiraghi, cerrtified teacher of Violin and Harmony from the Conservatoire of Music, Leipzig. The afternoon concert included violin solos by Signor Casiraghi, several vocal numbers, a few works for orchestra, organ and harp, and two bassoon solos. performed by Mr. Phil Langdale(late Soloist of the Cowan Orchestra). The titles, "Lucie Long" and "Carnival de Venise" were arrangements made by Mr. Langdale of popular tunes set with variations.
The National Library of Australia is a wonderful historic archive with a free searchable newspaper database. Between 1888 and 1896 there were over 225 citations of "Phil Langdale, bassoon". Even for a noted violinist or pianist of this era this would be an exceptional amount of newspaper coverage.
But Mr. Langdale played the bassoon.
Melbourne Argus
16 October 1888
The reference to "late Soloist of the Cowan (sic)Orchestra" was to the orchestra employed for the 1888 Melbourne Centennial Exhibition. This event was organized to celebrate a century of European settlement in Australia. It was held at the Royal Exhibition Building which was built for the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1880–81. For this earlier world's fair the western nave of the main building had a specially built orchestral platform complete with a grand pipe organ, and enough choir tiers for 700 to 750 voices.
Event organizers for the 1888 Centennial Exhibition anticipated that this concert feature would be a major attraction, so in 1888 they engaged the services of Frederic H. Cowen (1852–1935), a well-known British pianist, conductor, and composer. In 1888 he had just been made conductor of the Philharmonic Society of London, succeeding the famous composer Arthur Sullivan. His fee to go to Melbourne for the Centennial Fair was £5,000, an amount considered at the time especially extravagant for any musician. His terms included the hiring of 15 principal musicians from Britain for the Exhibition Orchestra. One of those musicians was the bassoonist Phil Langdale.
On the 15th October 1888 a smaller group of the orchestra presented an afternoon recital of solo pieces. On the program was an Air, with variations for bassoon, by F. Godfrey and played by Mr. Phil Langdale. Most of these fine solo performances were re-demanded and repeated, and the whole musical performance was found to be full of interest.
* * *
Melbourne Australasian
4 August 1888
The Centennial International Exhibition opened in Melbourne on 1 August 1888 and continued to 31 January 1889. Frederic Cowen's exhibition orchestra numbered 73 musicians, including Signor A. Casiraghi in the first violins and P. Langdale, principal bassoon.
Orchestra musicians roster for
the Centennial International Exhibition Melbourne: 1888–1889
Source: Official Record
The 15 principals imported from Britain with Mr. Cowen were paid £10 per week. The exhibition commission also agreed to defray the cost of a second-class ticket for the steamship voyage to Australia and a return ticket, if desired. In 1888 the estimated travel time from London to Sydney was 50 days. The remainder of the orchestra was hired from musicians resident in the Australian Colonies. Their salaries varied from £3 10s to £12 per week. The 708 men and women in the Exhibition Choir sang for gratis—without pay, though they got free passes into the Exhibition.
Orchestra musicians' pay rate for
the Centennial International Exhibition Melbourne: 1888–1889
Source: Official Record
The Exhibition ran for a bit over 26 weeks during Australia's spring and summer seasons. Over the course of the festival the orchestra and choir performed for 211 Orchestral, 30 Grand Choral, and 22 Popular concerts under Mr. Cowen's direction. This is in addition to many vocal, piano and instrumental recitals, and countless concerts of military bands that provided music throughout the rest of the exhibition area and amusement park.
Concert hall and grand organ for
the Centennial International Exhibition Melbourne: 1888–1889
Source: Official Record
Among the Grand Choral works were two performances of Beethoven's Choral 9th Symphony; four of Händel's "Messiah" oratorio; two of Haydn's "Creation" oratorio; four of Mendelssohn's "Elijah" oratorio; two of Rossini's "Stabat Mater"; and twelve performances of Cowen's choral music, his "Ruth" oratorio, "Song of Thanksgiving", and "Sleeping Beauty" cantata.
List of choral works performed at
the Centennial International Exhibition Melbourne: 1888–1889
Source: Official Record
The orchestral concerts included the remaining eight Beethoven symphonies; Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique; Brahms' Symphony No. 3; Liszt's "Les Preludes"; Mendelssohn's Sym. No. 3 "Scotch"(sic), Sym. No.4 "Italian", and Sym. No. 4 "Reformation" Symphonies; two Schuber symphonies; and three Schumann symphonies. Nearly all were performed more than once. Beethoven's 6th Symphony the "Pastorale" was played five times. The programs also included an astonishing number of overtures, 91 opera overtures including nearly all of those by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Rossini, Schubert, Wagner, and Weber. There were also a few violin concertos and several piano concertos, along with numerous incidental pieces, opera selections, songs, ballets, marches, rhapsodies, ballads, and serenades.
Quite a lot of this music was new and unfamiliar to both musicians and Melbourne's audience. For example Brahm's 3rd Symphony only had its premiere in December 1883. Over 50 musical works programed on concerts at the 1888 Centennial International Exhibition were first performances for Melbourne and probably for Australia too.
Concerts were scheduled twice a day at 3:00 pm and 8:00 pm, six days a week except on Sunday. Presumably mornings were reserved for rehearsals. That's roughly 7 to 8 hours of music making each day, or 36 to 48 hours a week not counting individual practice time. In comparison, modern orchestra musicians typically work a 20 to 24 hour week.
List of orchestral works performed at
the Centennial International Exhibition Melbourne: 1888–1889
Source: Official Record
The Melbourne Exhibition Hall was modified to seat 2,500 people. Over the six months that the exhibition was open, an average of 1,915 tickets were sold for each concert, making a total attendance of 467,2999. Of course, there were many other non-musical activities and sights for the public to see at the Melbourne exhibition park. but the musical arts were the chief attraction. It made for a daunting, if not exhausting, marathon list of music for any musician. For bassoonist Phil Langdale it meant easily a half dozen difficult bassoon solos to master each day. Only a well trained musician could survive that level of intense music. Someone who knew how to wield a bassoon as a defensive weapon if the music so demanded.
Someone who had been a member of Her Majesty's Cold Stream Guards Band.
Dublin Irish Times
13 April 1875
Philip Langdale was just 20 years old in 1875 when he performed a Bassoon Solo (with variations) in Dublin's Exhibition Palace as a member of the Band of the Coldstream Guards. He was born in 1855 in Sevenoaks, Kent and probably joined the band at around age 16. His instrument, the bassoon, had long held a place in military bands, providing a sonorous bass voice that was also capable of great musical agility.
The Coldstream Guards Band had a long musical tradition that dated back to 1785, and it held a reputation as one of the best in the British Army, which had a great number of military bands. This band provided music for any ceremonial duties to Queen Victoria, as well as for other military events. But by the 1870s, military bands also were an important unit for the British government's public relations, traveling the country performing at innumerable flower shows, exhibitions, and civic affairs. Between 1873 and 1881 there were over a hundred newspaper references to Mr. Langdale's bassoon solos (with variations) at concerts by the Band of the Coldstream Guards. The band's programs were regularly published and Langdale's bassoon received much praise in the reviews. The music that the band played included an immense number of popular overtures, songs, and solo instrumental works arranged for wind band from orchestral scores, as well as the standard military marches. This disciplined musical training would have given young Philip Langdale a good grounding in all the current styles of European music.
After 1881 his name appears less often as he seems to have left the Coldstream band for civilian life. In July 1883, Mr. P. Langdale appeared at London's Adelphi Theatre playing a bassoon solo "Lucy Long". In February 1885 another Langdale bassoon solo was advertised by Her Majesty's Theatre where an orchestra of 100, assisted by the Band of the London Rifle Brigade, played a concert of various opera overtures, solo vocal pieces, dances, and a Descriptive Fantasia: "A Voyage in a Troop Ship." In July 1885, Mr. Langdale demonstrated a bassoon made of ebonite, a man-made material, at a musical instrument exhibit of the Rudall, Carte, and Co.
But the only thing that this research proves is once upon a time a talented British bassoonist could boast of a surprising prestige on the Victorian era concert stage. It doesn't convincingly establish that the bassoonist with the wonderful curled mustache is Mr. Phil Langdale, the late bassoon soloist of the Melbourne Exhibition Orchestra.
If only there was another photo.
* * *
The 1888 Melbourne Centennial Exhibition was an international exposition attracting elaborate displays from all around the world as well as Australia. Thousands of representatives of industry, trade, and the arts booked space at the exhibition to demonstrate their newest and best products. The planning also required hundreds of contractors and staff to operate the fair's activities. Concerned about maintaining security the Melbourne Exhibition Commission decided to have individual photo portraits compiled of all persons employed at the exhibition. Many of these identity photos survive in the archives of the State Library of Victoria.
The musicians of the Melbourne Centennial International Exhibition Orchestra worked 6 days a week through the entire event, so of course, they were photographed too. The State Library of Victoria has a souvenir collage of the orchestra with 68 musicians' ID photos surrounding a photo of their music director, Frederic H. Cowen. There are no instruments and no names, but the archive offered a high definition image to download.
The musicians' photos, all men of course, illustrate the amazing variety of mustaches, beards, and hair styles that were the male fashion of the 1880s. This era might better be called the golden age of barbers.
The faces of many men were easily eliminated as too old, too fat, etc. But a few grainy images made promising matches. These two men, center row, 2nd and 3rd from right bear a good resemblance to my bassoonist, and the one on the left has a similar impressively long mustache.
This man, third row from bottom, 2nd from left, has a similar imperial style beard and a receding hair line.
But the man pictured on the bottom row, 4th from right, made the best match to my bassoonist.
His mustache may lack the twirled extensions but it has the same shape.
I think his hooded eyes, high forehead, thin hair, and cheekbones
makes him a ringer for the man in my photograph.
The two men also share an inclination for rumpled suit coats.
The bassoonist Philip Langdale declined the Melbourne Exhibition Commission's offer of a steamship ticket to return to England, and instead stayed in Melbourne working as a professional musician. He played bassoon solos in Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, and even New Zealand that were commended in reviews for their wit and musical facility. Then as now, the sound of the bassoon is associated with musical humor, even though it is very capable of producing many other profound and beautiful emotions.
But as time passed the Australian audience's acclaim was not enough to meet a musician's financial challenges. By 1894 Langdale was evidently struggling to keep afloat in show business and hinting the he would soon leave for Britain.
Melbourne Table Talk
23 March 1894
Mr. Phil Langdale's "benefit" concert on Thursday night last, at the town hall, drew a fairly large and, as his many good qualities deserve, a sympathetic audience. Mr. Langdale has, ever since his first appearance here with Mr. Cowen been consistently a public favorite, and this quite as much on account of his amiable disposition and the ready sympathy he has always shown to his fellow artists, as on account of his mastery over his instrument.
He had certainly no reason to complain of the warmth of the greeting offered to him when he first appeared upon the platform, nor of the applause that followed his first solo, the "Carnival de Venice." And of the floral tributes offered to him nothing could have been more appropriate than the one woven in the form of a bassoon. The warmth of feeling shown him should be a guarantee to Mr. Langdale that he bears with him the best wishes of his friends and admirers.
But the programme was inordinately long, and was not, on the whole as readily carried out as usual. Apart from the performance by Mr. Langdale, who was naturally the central figure of the evening...
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Langdale managed another year in Australia
before finally making his farewell concert in 1895.
A Melbourne wag wrote an amusing tongue-in-cheek tribute
that says a lot about Langdale and the friendships he made in Australia.
Melbourne Punch
11 July 1895
Mr. Phil Langdale, the eminent bassoon player, who is leaving the colony for England almost immediately, is doing so in consequence of the small demand for bassoon playing in this country. He attributes this lack of interest in the instrument to the political management of the colony. It would be worth while for him to clearly explain what sort of political administration ought to prevail in order to make bassoon playing popular and profitable.
What is there that is anti-bassoonical in our present politics? Wagner, if we remember rightly, called the bassoon the "clown of the orchestra," on account of its appropriateness for producing comic effects. There are so many clowns in politics that we should have expected them to take a fraternal interest in the instrument, if they had any inclination to interested in any instrument of music whatever.
We are, however, really sorry Phil Langdale is going, and hope that the state of politics, of which he complains will bas-soon altered.
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This photo detective has tried to connect an unmarked portrait of a musician with a name that has no likeness, but regrettably it is not conclusiveproof of identification. However, circumstantial evidence sometimes is sufficient too. So I'm convinced that a musician like Phil Langdale, whose talent on the bassoon was so frequently recognized during his years in Australia and whose wit and charm had endeared him to many friends, would very likely invest in a handsome photograph like this as a gift for his admirers. It the sort of thing one does when taking leave of a place and setting out on a long voyage to a distant land.
* * * CODA
The following year, December 1896, Phil Langdale was on stage in London as a bassoon soloist with the Inns of Court Orchestral Society. His name appears much less frequently than when he was with the Coldstream Guards Band, probably because he was working in theater orchestras and seaside pier bands. In around 1900 he begins touring England with the "London Wind Quintette", an early instance of a professional wind chamber group. During the war years his novelty bassoon solos were occasionally worthy of note in newspaper reviews. The last mention of his name was in 1921 as principal bassoon of the Tonbridge Orchestral Society.
I've left out his family history mainly because it was never mentioned in the Australian newspapers and is not pertinent to my case. However I have documented his name in the UK census and other records and know that Phil Langdale, born in 1855, married Selina Campbell, age 19, in 1885. Whether she accompanied him to Australia, I do not known. They had two daughters, Nina, born in 1887 and Phyllis, born in 1903.
Philip Langdale, bassoonist, died on 22 October 1929 at age 74.
As a special musical homage for his story let's listen to a rendition of one of Phil Langdale's favorite bassoon variations. This video comes from a March 25, 2012 concert at Edinborough Park, in Edina, Minnesota featuring Alex Legeros on bassoon with the Edina Sousa Band, playing "Lucy Long."
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This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday where the batter is up and the basses are loaded.
This is a web gallery of antique photographs of musicians. Most are of people whose names are now lost in time but they represent the many kinds of players, instruments, and ensembles that once defined musical culture. But these photographs also capture a moment in the history of people and places, so I write about that too.
All the photos shown here are in my personal collection.
For Best Effect Click on the Images for a Larger View
For information on my music for horn - go to the bottom of this column.
