This edited article about the gramophone originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 704 published on 12 July 1975.

A child in the ‘Sixties playig  LPs on a stereo record player

“Is it a British or a German submarine? We must be able to hear the difference!”

This was the awesome task set by R.A.F. Coastal Command when they approached the Decca gramophone company during World War II. It was a secret assignment and called for a record to be produced which could be used as a training aid to familiarise airmen with the subtle differences made by the sounds of the enemy and our own submarines.

Difficult as the problem was, Decca came up with the answer – a record with such a wide range of sensitive sound that it was completely satisfactory.

Intensive research had produced an exciting new recording technique, stretching the gramophone’s capabilities to a greater extent than ever before. Adapted later for musical reproduction after the war’s end, the process became known as “ffrr” (full frequency range recording,) and Decca took it as their trademark.

It was not long after the war, that another kind of battle began, this time between the rival recording companies.

In 1948, Columbia Records of America held a Press Conference in New York to launch a revolutionary idea, invented by Dr. Peter Goldmark, called the LP (Long Playing) record. Their new 12-inch disc turned out to be made of non-breakable vinyl plastic, played at 33 and a third r.p.m. on microgrooves and lasted 23 minutes per side. It had about 250 grooves to the inch instead of about 80 in the 78 r.p.m. record.

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This edited article about Emile Berliner originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 702 published on 28 June 1975.

Singers’ voices were relayed by horn to a recording device which would then yield up the recording ithrough another horn when a needle tracked the stored sound waves, by John Keay

Everybody was talking about the wonderful new invention by Thomas Alva Edison. You popped a cylinder on the phonograph, they said, and heard music and singers just as if they were in the room with you.

It was the topic of conversation, also, in a draper’s shop in Washington, D.C., where a young German immigrant, Emile Berliner, was working. But as he measured out dress lengths, Berliner’s mind was on other things. His thoughts were full of chemistry and physics which he studied in his spare time in the local libraries.

Soon, electricity and acoustics began to absorb him above all else. In a small laboratory which he had fixed up in his boarding-house, he started experimenting in these fields.

Browsing in Washington Museum one day he became fascinated with one of the exhibits. This was Frenchman Leon Scott’s phonautograph of 1857. It was an instrument which showed the sound waves of the human voice, traced on blackened paper. The thing that most intrigued him was its tracing movement which went laterally – from side to side in a wavy line.

He felt that this could be applied effectively to a sound recording machine. This would improve on the results achieved by Edison’s already established up-and-down (hill-and-dale) method, used in the phonograph.

Deciding that flat discs instead of cylinders were more suitable for this new technique, he set to work. In 1888, he made the first, simple, hand-cranked disc recording machine, which he called a gramophone.

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This edited article about Edison and the history of the gramophone originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 701 published on 21 June 1975.

Thomas Edison demonstrates his phonograph in the cellar of his home by Peter Jackson

“I was never so taken aback in all my life!” So said the great American inventor, Thomas Alva Edison, when he heard his own voice coming from the little machine he had just created, quoting the simple rhyme, “Mary had a little lamb.” Scratchy and indistinct the words may have been, but they were the first recorded sounds ever heard.

It was 1877 when Edison hit upon the idea of a machine to record and reproduce sound. He called it a phonograph.

His first model had a grooved, brass cylinder covered with tin foil and cranked by a handle. It also had two diaphragms (metal discs), each with a steel needle fixed in the centre, on either side of the cylinder. When a person spoke into the mouthpiece of one of the diaphragms, the vibrations made by his voice caused it to move so that the attached needle made a pattern of tiny indentations on the rotating tin foil. By placing the needle of the other diaphragm at the start of the groove and cranking again, a crude reproduction of the voice was heard. The sound could be amplified by placing a small horn over the reproducing diaphragm.

In December of that year, Edison took his invention to New York, where a demonstration was arranged for the editors of the “Scientific American” magazine. Here is how it was reported.

“Mr. Thomas A. Edison recently came into the office, placed a little machine on our desk, turned a crank and the machine inquired as to our health, asked how we liked the phonograph, informed us that it was very well, and bid us a cordial goodnight.”

In the following months, the public flocked to exhibitions of the new machine, but, like most novelties, its appeal soon faded and, by the latter half of 1878, it had been almost forgotten.

In the meanwhile, Edison had put aside his phonograph in order to concentrate on other work.

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This edited article about absurd military ideas originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 698 published on 31 May 1975.

Unlike crazy ideas for weapons of attack, the eccentric pigeon post proved reliable during the siege of Paris in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71

Terrible as war always is, it does have its lighter moments. Inventors can usually be guaranteed to provide some laughs, which they certainly did in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71. The Prussians and their German allies (for there was no such thing as a united Germany until 1871), had it all their own way at first, but in September 1870, found themselves besieging Paris. Not until January 1871, did the city capitulate, before which a number of would-be geniuses had come up with marvellous schemes for defeating the hated enemy.

One of the more fatuous ideas was to unleash the most ferocious wild animals of the Paris zoo against the Prussians, though how the lions and tigers were expected to stand up to the finest infantry and artillery in Europe was not explained. Another genius said that the Seine should be poisoned at the point where it flowed out of Paris, which, even if it had been practical, would have done more harm to the French than the enemy.

An even more inspired “non-event” was the musical machine gun. The non-musical version was a not very good ancestor of the machine gun, but the tuneful piece of artillery would, so its inventor thought, be far more effective. Trading on the fact that all Germans were supposed to be musical, his gun would lure the enemy forward by playing suitable airs of Beethoven, Schubert and Mozart. When the Prussians were within range, they would be decimated by the “non-musical” part of the gun.

The most famous idea was not so much daft as ahead of its time, and carried through so badly that all Paris mocked its originator.

His name was Felix Belly and he decided to create the “Amazons of the Seine”, ten battalions of them in fancy uniforms.

Alas for poor Monsieur Belly, the men of Paris did not approve, and they came to jeer and hoot outside the recruiting office. There were ugly rumours that he had been charging exorbitant entrance fees, and the whole scheme collapsed.

This edited article about originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 696 published on 17 May 1975.

The young Handel is discovered in the attic playing the harpsichord by his father. Picture by Peter Jackson

Known to millions as the composer of the Hallelujah Chorus and the great oratorio, the Messiah, from which it comes, George Frederic Handel was British by choice, not by birth. Yet his music is part of the British heritage, and he lies buried in Westminster Abbey. What do we know about the little boy from Germany who achieved these things?

Many boys and girls dislike having to practise a musical instrument, even if they have a natural gift for playing it. Parents and teachers have to coax and push them along. With young Handel, however, it was just the opposite. From the time that he could sit on a stool, he loved to get close to a keyboard, and to pick out notes and make up little tunes. And from his earliest years he longed to become a real musician, begging his parents to let him have proper lessons on the harpsichord.

But his father had quite different ideas. A prosperous doctor in the north German town of Halle, he did not intend to let his youngest son lead the irregular and poorly paid life of a musician of those times. No, the boy was to be trained for one of the professions which his father thought respectable, such as that of a lawyer, or perhaps a doctor like himself.

So the small harpsichord in the home of the Handel family was banished to the attic, where George Frederic would not be tempted to waste his time on it. One night, however, his parents were awakened by the sound of soft music stealing down the stairs, long after they had gone to bed. Taking a candle, they went to investigate, and to their amazement found their young son, who was not more than six at the time, seated in his nightshirt in the chilly attic, playing away on the old harpsichord with a skill which was entirely self-taught, and which they had no idea he possessed.

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This edited article about Rossini originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 696 published on 17 May 1975.

Act III, scene iii of Rossini’s opera, William Tell

Gioacchino Antonio Rossini, the great Italian operatic composer, was born on February 29th, 1792 at Pesaro on the Adriatic where his father was the town trumpeter.

Brought up in an atmosphere of music and the theatre, the young Rossini soon showed signs of his musical talents. His father played the horn in the theatre orchestras and his mother was an opera singer.

He studied music at the Conservatoire in Bologna and learned a great deal from the works of Haydn and Mozart.

At the astonishingly early age of 14, Rossini wrote his first opera, La Cambiale di Matrimonio. By the time he was twenty, he was writing four comic operas a year and at once became a most popular composer.

In 1816, came his most famous and best-loved opera, The Barber of Seville although when it was first performed, it was considered a failure.

His other operas which are often performed today, include The Italian Girl in Algiers, Otello, Cinderella and, of course, the famous opera which was produced in 1829, William Tell.

After the success of William Tell, Rossini was to live for another forty years, but wrote no more operas. After visiting England in 1823, he later settled in Paris where he lived most of the time until his death in 1868.

Rossini’s music is light and gay and the composer had a great gift for flowing melody while his work is highly characteristic of the Italian tradition. He was a great lover of the orchestral crescendo and was noted in his day for his ‘noisy effects’. However, his great musical gifts and theatrical flair have ensured his lasting success and his best music, like that which can be heard in The Barber of Seville has an unfailing, immortal charm.

This edited article about Margot Fonteyn originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 693 published on 26 April 1975.

Dame Margot Fonteyn

Margaret Evelyn Hookham was born on 18th May, 1919 in Reigate, Surrey.

The path that was to lead her to become one of the greatest dancers the world has ever known as Margot Fonteyn began at the local dancing school.

It was in London that she was for the first time deeply impressed by a dancer on the stage. After watching Alicia Markova’s performance at the Vic Wells Ballet Company, young Peggy, as she was nicknamed, turned to her mother and said: “That’s what I want to do!”

Soon after this, Peggy’s family moved to Shanghai where she continued to have formal ballet lessons. Then in 1933, when she came back to London, she was taught by Markova’s teacher, Princess Seraphine Atafiera.

It was not long before it was decided that Peggy should go along for an audition at the Vic Wells Ballet, run by Ninette de Valois. She was accepted, and after only a year became the youngest member of the corps de ballet. It was also at this time that she changed her name to Margot Fontes – the surname Fonteyn did not come till sometime later.

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This edited article about J S Bach originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 683 published on 15 February 1975.

Johann Sebastian Bach at the keyboard playing chamber music with his family

There had already been four generations of musicians in the Bach family when Johann Sebastian Bach was born at Eisenach in Germany in 1685.

The little boy who was to become one of the world’s greatest composers, was left in the charge of his elder brother, Johann Christoph, when his parents died.

It was this brother who appeared to be envious of Sebastian’s musical talents. The story goes that he forbade him to study a special volume of music, saying that it was too young for him. So for six months, Sebastian would creep out of bed every night when everyone was asleep, and copy out the music from the forbidden book. This so damaged his eyesight that in the last year of his life the composer became totally blind.

At the age of fifteen young Sebastian left his brother’s house and travelled to Luneburg so that he could further his musical studies. He earned his living by singing in the church choir and spent all his spare time studying, and composing music.

When he was 18 years old he became a church organist at Weimar and it was here that he wrote his first great organ works. Orchestral overtures, sonatas for solo violin and solo cello, the Brandenburg concertos and works for the clavichord and harpsichord were all written by Bach at Cothen, where he held the post of conductor of a small orchestra.

He later became a choirmaster at a school in Leipzig, the town in which he spent the rest of his life. Here he wrote the best known of his longer works including the beautiful Passion According to St Matthew and the Passion According to St John; the Christmas Oratorio, and the Mass in B Minor.

Bach was a lovable, modest and deeply religious man. He was never rich and found it hard to support his enormous family of 20 children. He was happily married twice and his second wife was a beautiful singer. It was for her and for his children that he wrote the simple little tunes that are played by beginners today. He called them Notebooks for Wilhelm Friedmann Bach and Anna Magdalena. His book of 48 preludes and fugues. The Well Tempered Clavier, was written for his sons, and many of his cantatas were written for his wife and daughters to sing.

The great composer died in 1750 at the age of 65.

This edited article about Henry Purcell originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 675 published on 21 December 1974.

Henry Purcell

One of the very greatest of English composers, Henry Purcell was born in 1659. As a young boy he sang in the children’s choir of the Chapel Royal, which is the monarch’s private chapel. He began to compose music at the age of 12. In 1679, at the age of 20, Purcell became organist at Westminster Abbey and two years later, was appointed organist at the Chapel Royal. He played for the coronation of James II, and for the funeral of Queen Mary, he composed the anthem, ‘Thou Knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts’.

Purcell died at the early age of 36, but during his short life, he wrote a tremendous amount of music, most of which was the finest English music ever composed. He wrote odes, songs, fantasies and sonatas for strings and harpsichords. He also wrote the music for many plays, including Dryden’s King Arthur, The Tempest by Shakespeare, and The Fairy Queen, an anonymous adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The greatest of Purcell’s music for plays, which combined to form a kind of opera, is Dido and Aeneas. Purcell lived most of his life in London and died in Westminster on November 21st, 1695.

Purcell was the most original composer of his time, and one of the most original in Europe. After his death, he was best known as a songwriter, but his musical output covered a wide range. He wrote music for the church, the stage, the court and for private entertainment. In little more than fifteen years he composed 100 secular songs and about 40 duets. These were printed in his own lifetime but it was not until 1876, when the Purcell Society was founded, that the rest of his works began to be published.

This edited article about G F Handel originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 668 published on 2 November 1974.

Handel threatens the diva Cuzzoni with defenestration, by Peter Jackson

The two men had fallen out and it was certainly not Handel’s fault. His so-called friend, Mattheson, was jealous of his success, and one night at the opera house in Hamburg, the young musicians came to blows in the orchestra pit.

No one knows the immediate cause of the fight, but the audience was delighted, especially when the quarrel was continued that night in 1704 out in the Goose-market before a cheering crowd. But now it was getting more serious for swords were drawn. After blows had been exchanged Mattheson’s sword struck a hard metal coat button and the sword splintered in his hand.

It was the end of the duel, which was just as well, for if it had struck a little higher, we would have had no Messiah, no Water Music, no Music for the Royal Fireworks and many other much-loved pieces.

But what has this quarrel between two Germans got to do with the very British Georgians? The answer is simple. Handel, born in Germany in 1685, the same year as that other master musician, Johann Sebastian Bach, was to become a naturalised Briton, as British as roast beef. And, as we shall see, his influence on British music was colossal.

Rumour has it that Handel’s Aunt Anna got him off to a good musical start by smuggling a clavichord (a predecessor of the piano) into the attic of his home in Halle, Saxony, when he was six years old. Father, a barber-surgeon at a time when the two professions were often one, disapproved of music and musicians and wanted his son to be “respectable” like himself. Fortunately, when the boy was seven, a duke heard him play the organ and persuaded the reluctant Handel senior to allow him to study music officially and away from the attic.

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