Richard Vendome JAMES DALTON (1930-2017)

Integrity, both musical and personal, was James Dalton's defining quality. A shy man of keen intellect, courtly manners and a dry sardonic wit, he spoke French, German, Spanish, Russian and Italian, and held post-war Labour views. With his signature green eyeshade and fingerless mittens, he was once challenged as an itinerant by a new porter who failed to recognise the Fellow and Organist of Queen's. His contribution to modern organ design and playing technique was timely and profound, and fortunately we have as his legacy the incomparable 1965 Frobenius organ, the first and arguably still the best of Oxford's organ-reform movement instruments, a thing of beauty rather than status. This was paralleled in his playing, his disciplined technique and deep understanding of form and structure drawing us into the mind of the composer in a manner reminiscent of Helmut Walcha. In the words of Dominic Gwynn, on hearing of

his death: "For me, the British organ world still needs his example - a clarity of thought". James Dalton was born in Ipswich in 1930; his father and grandfather were doctors, and his maternal grandfather W. Luard Raynes was a solicitor. All three were Cambridge men, and both grandfathers had been Mayors of Cambridge. His father Dr Charles Dalton was a radiologist who practised from home (this was before the NHS) and was once consulted by Benjamin Britten. When war broke out the family was on holiday in Cornwall, so father returned home leaving James with his mother and younger sister Elizabeth to live on a farm. He went to prep school in Penzance, going on to Gresham's which had been evacuated to Newquay in 1940, returning to Holt in 1944. A keen games player, he showed little inclination to follow his father into medicine. Mother was fond of Savoy operas, and her father was an amateur organist. His first BBC broadcast was as a sixth former at Gresham's, accompanying community hymn singing for the Light Programme's "Sunday Half Hour" in July 1948. In September 1948 he began his studies at the Royal College of Music, where his professors were George Thalben-Ball (organ), David Moule Evans (theory) and Norman Greenwood (piano). After a year he was called up for National Service, as an Education Assistant in the RAF. The chaplain at West Kirby had rigged up a rudimentary chapel in the screened-off corner of an aircraft hangar, complete with a Wurlitzer organ on which James would practise. He took the ARCO diploma in 1950, and was discharged early from the RAF in March 1951 to return to the RCM, occasionally assisting at Westminster Abbey and teaching piano at the choir school. Back at college he was now taught theory by W. S. Lloyd Webber, and took up the flute, studying with George Walker. When Thalben-Ball was on a tour of Australia during the summer of 1951 his duties were taken over by a teacher of a very different hue, Ralph Downes.

This was a seminal period in English organ building, with plans for the new South Bank Concert Hall (later the "Royal Festival Hall") and an organ to go with it being mooted, suitable for all schools of organ music, to be designed by Downes. The three Music Advisers to the LCC were Benjamin Britten, Sir George Dyson, and Ralph Vaughan Williams. Only Britten, supported by Jack Westrup, was in favour of Downes's plan; the others opposed it. Thus James had a ring-side seat in a controversy which would shape his future ideas on organ design and function. Having gained his FRCO diploma, in the summer of 1952 he went to Holland, with Downes's support, to explore historic organs. He took his bicycle on the ferry and cycled from the Hoek to Zaandam, where he was met by Dirk Flentrop, who gave him some cards of introduction and sent him to play at Alkmaar. When he returned the new RFH pipework was being installed, and Downes asked him to play various stops while he went down into the hall to listen. That autumn he became Organ Scholar at Worcester College, Oxford, training the boy choristers and playing trombone in the university orchestra. He was tutored by Edmund Rubbra, graduating with first class Honours in Music in 1955. He moved to the U.S. for two years, as a graduate assistant at Oberlin College, Ohio, and then as organist of Wesleyan University, Connecticut. The social attitudes of American life were a breath of fresh air, and had it not been for a message from Rubbra alerting him to the fact that there was a vacancy at Queen's because of Bernard Rose's move to Magdalen, he might have stayed there. He returned to Oxford in 1957 and was appointed to the post of Fellow and Organist of Queen's, and university lecturer in music. Once established, he set about reforming the chapel choir and planning a new organ on Werkprinzip lines. By this time the choristers from New College School had been replaced by "town boys", who would often win scholarships to choir schools, and then leave. Dissatisfied with this arrangement, in 1962 he replaced the boys with singers drawn from women's colleges, one of whom, Caroline Fletcher, was to become his wife the following year. He also directed the Eglesfield Musical Society, a town-and-gown chorus and orchestra, which gave termly concerts at Queen's. In researching his organ plans, James travelled around Europe playing various instruments and visiting builders, and asked the college organ committee to listen to recordings of continental organs, including Alkmaar and the Flentrop at the Maranathakerk, Amsterdam. In September 1960 he reported to the Governing Body that it was "impossible to teach style" on the 1931 Rushworth and Dreaper organ, which he later described as a "fairly efficient example of an extremely uninteresting type", although his playing on it was characteristically clean and elegant. Replacing it required the support of the younger and more enlightened fellows; atheism was in vogue and any business relating to college chapels regarded with suspicion. In a further report of March 1961 he argued that Oxford should take the lead in this matter "As much of the music for organ comes into the field of academic study, a good instrument would help to fill a gaping void". Invitations to tender were sent out in July 1961, and in May 1962 the Governing Body agreed to place a contract with Frobenius for £10,000 (the final cost was £12,300). During a discussion about liturgical requirements he took Eric and Walter Frobenius to St Paul's Cathedral, where Harry Gabb demonstrated the organ. In hushed tones one commented to the other "a beautiful sound, but you cannot play music on that". During the second quarter of 1965 he worked closely with Frobenius on the installation of the organ, playing it daily and commenting on voicing and regulation. Its detractors were soon won over when they heard it. Writing in the Oxford Mail on 24 June, Horace Fitzpatrick described it as "rich and imposing, yet not overpowering", and another commentator wrote "it is never shrill

or hard in tone, a rare quality in modern classical organs". With its refined sound and Fin Ditlevsen's superbly proportioned casework, it quickly assumed iconic status. For half a century there has been an unbroken series of Wednesday lunchtime recitals during term time; James or an organ scholar would alternate with a visiting recitalist. Early players included Anton Heiller, André Marchal, Marie-Claire Alain and Susi Jeans; few of the world's greatest organists have not played at Queen's. In order to keep the chapel clean the audience was asked: "Please wrap your sandwiches in polythene", and the organ loft itself was always immaculate, with no hymnbooks, shoes or other clutter to distract the player. He tuned the reeds before every recital, and nobody else was allowed to touch them. One day a photograph appeared on the side of the case, probably from a canal museum, of a notice stating that "the penalty for tampering with these works is TRANSPORTATION". I had attempted to fix a buzzing pipe, and had been found out, but nothing was said. It is difficult to make a bad sound on the Queen's organ, and although the specification is uncompromisingly "baroque", it is as responsive as the finest concert grand piano, with a remarkably effective swell box. It impressed Thalben-Ball, visiting in 1968, who nevertheless drew all the 8ft stops and couplers in his customary way, before adding anything else. And Leopold Stokowski, conductor and honorary fellow, attending a college dinner in 1971, remarked that "all it lacks is a 32ft stop - they make good electronic ones nowadays"; James’s reply is not recorded. Like his predecessor Bernard Rose he was not fond of Messiaen; a pity, because the colours of the organ are well suited to it. Once when an American organist was demonstrating L'Ascension to a party of visitors, he wandered into the chapel and called up "do you have any NICE music?" Soon after the opening James made a recording for Abbey Records of Couperin, Bruhns and part of Bach's Orgelbüchlein, a fresh and stylish document of the new organ, with detailed registrations on the sleeve. He made another for the same company 25 years later of Bach preludes and fugues, with music by Buxtehude, Froberger and Tunder. Apart from his 1973 recordings for Melodiya of the Walcker organ at Riga Dom in Latvia, he recorded extensively for the BBC. An outside broadcast van in Queen's Lane, with cables snaking up through a chapel window, signalled another Radio 3 organ programme in the making. In the Spring of 1983 he gave a remarkable series of recitals for the BBC of early Iberian organ music on contemporary instruments in Spain and Portugal, following the van around on his bicycle for much of the tour. Given that these organs were largely untouched and that he had edited much of the music himself for the Faber early organ music series, these broadcasts were a precious record of a little-known repertoire. In 1985/86 he undertook a similar project with music by Buxtehude and his contemporaries on North German organs. His performing engagements took him all over Europe, to Russia, the United States and Australia. The start of each recital was heralded by a ceremonial blowing of the nose. He was a frequent performer at the RFH, often playing from memory, and in 1979/80 he presented the complete organ works of J. S. Bach at both the RCO and at Queen's, repeating this in 1988/89 in Oxford. He was one of few western organists to play in Russia, making his Moscow debut in December 1968. His tours were arranged through the Soviet agency Goskonzert, and his recitals usually packed out, on one occasion repeated the following day so that more people could hear him. When his niece Katherine wrote to a Russian pen friend to tell her of his visit, the girl was determined to hear him play and travelled 700 miles overnight by train to the concert, only to discover that it was sold out. Fortunately she located James and showed him the letter, and was admitted.

A concert artist of the old school, when not teaching he would practise for hours on end. It was a privilege to turn pages for him; his concentration was electric and one was drawn into the process as if by the composer himself. He was always thoroughly prepared, and his posture very secure, characterized by a minimum of movement. His pedalling was totally accurate, and he never held onto the bench during a pedal solo. On one occasion when a Swedish organist missed his ferry, a furious James played his programme for him, with uncharacteristic impetuosity. But it was in the chorale preludes, especially the Clavierübung III and the Eighteen, that his playing conjured from the limpid sounds of the Frobenius a tangible transcendence. In those days the lunchtime recital was given twice, at 12.15 and at 1.15; after the first performance he would lie down on the floor of the song room (behind the organ) with a newspaper over his face, and immediately fall asleep, waking in time for the second round. Several new works were dedicated to him, including Nicholas Maw's challenging Essay for Organ (1961) and Hugh Wood's lively Capriccio (1967). Given the huge impact on British musical life of the Queen's organ, it is not surprising that he was in demand as an organ consultant, having an important role in the design of the 1970 Beckerath at Clare College, Cambridge, the 1978 Nicholson at St John the Evangelist, Iffley Road, now a thriving Oxford concert venue, and the 1982 Marcussen at St Mary's, Putney. Not entirely comfortable in the role of choirmaster, he shunned the well-worn paths of Anglican church music in favour of more challenging repertoire, some of it from the Lutheran tradition, and produced his own editions of obscure works. Choral directors David Bevan and Matthew Owens acknowledge this influence on their own thinking. His prosaic "Routine Responses", often sung at evensong, was an original composition. The rhythmic impetus apparent in his playing was less obvious in his conducting. Out-ranking the chaplain in the college hierarchy he would sometimes programme a whole Bach cantata for evensong or a Couperin organ mass, complete with plainchant, for a eucharist, making the service very long. Having been upset by loud talking during the Sunday voluntary, for a term he decreed that the blessing should take place after it and not before, motivating some fellows to file out during the closing hymn, unblessed. Many of his tutorial pupils went on to become household names in music. Some were quite scared of him, and any student arriving unprepared would be painfully aware that they were wasting his time as well as their own. Occasionally he would be consumed by shyness, obliging the student to take the initiative, or if suffering from back pain would lie under the piano with his head poking out. His teaching of harmony and counterpoint involved file cards with a coded analysis of the music being studied, and score reading at the piano, perhaps as a duet with him playing some of the parts. "What key are we in here?" was a frequent question. Students were

required to analyse examples of the genre being studied, and to him any solution lacking in stylistic understanding, however grammatically correct, was unacceptable. He could hear complex harmonies in his head, taught all periods, and had a particular fondness for Richard Strauss and Bartok. As an organ teacher he liked his students to get under the skin of the music, and would not comment unless he had something to say. He used the Orgelbüchlein as Bach intended, especially for teaching basic pedal technique, and his common-sense views on performance practice and registration were discussed in the Musical Times in the 60s and 70s. A typical first-lesson comment would be "You play with great feeling, but have no technique whatsoever". "Very workmanlike!" was high praise indeed. And when a visiting scholar on sabbatical brought the Bach B minor Prelude and Fugue to a lesson, having already performed it at a prestigious recital, he pondered for a moment and said "I think you should LEARN this piece".

A keen photographer, James never travelled without his trusty camera, and did his own developing and printing. An enthusiastic baker, he would get up early to make loaves before cycling into college; brewing, from kits, was a less successful enterprise. In later life his sporting interests moved to the golf course. His fascination with railway timetables and the times of sunrise and sunset arose perhaps from his youthful ambition to become an actuary. It was always a pleasure to visit him at home in Wheatley and be treated to one of his characteristically quirky but healthy and delicious lunches. He supported the world of church music in his own way, as Organ Adviser to the Diocese of Oxford, RCO examiner and generous benefactor to the RCO library. He suffered a series of strokes in 1993 and retired in 1995. During evensong at Queen's recently I was struck by the perfect marriage of James's Frobenius organ and Owen Rees's glorious choir. An inspiring presence, he was possessed of kindness, humour, fortitude and humanity, and we shall miss him greatly. _______________ Henry James Martin Dalton, organist and musicologist, Emeritus Fellow of The Queen's College, Oxford, born Ipswich 11th November 1930, died Oxford 20th April 2017, survived by his wife Caroline and children Mary, Ruth, Peter and Nicholas.