Is this harmonisation really by Bach?

Is this wonderful harmonisation really by Bach?
I have not been able to locate it anywhere other than in Geoffrey Shaw's Twice 20 Choral Songs for Choirs.
I have found the tune harmonised by Bach, but not in this specific, superb version.

Can you help?

Cherished memory smashed

One of my treasured memories is of the teenage boys next door coming into our little flat in Charlestown in 1974, and playing us a fun arrangement for piano duet, clarinet and euphonium of Danny Boy, in honour of our newly-born, very first child Daniel. It had been written for them by the well-loved Newcastle parish priest and musician, Father Peter Brock.

 

So you can imagine the shock we felt when we heard that Peter Brock's name had come up in the course of the investigation into Newcastle priests abusing children. Surely this was a mistake? How could such a prominent conductor, composer and Newcastle identity, loved by so many, be included?

 

A couple of years down the track, we heard he had been exonerated, and were greatly relieved. Then a little later we  attended a performance of Bach's St John's Passion by Newcastle University Choir, which he conducted, and we had almost forgotten that his name had come up in this unsavoury saga.

It was the last concert we attended with Joan's mother, and was professionally and beautifully performed.

 

But today I read the disturbing news that one of those boys living next door to our first home was the person who contacted the police and blew the whistle that resulted in Strikeforce Georgiana and the royal commission. He came forward and spoke publicly yesterday, following the death of Peter Brock last week.

 

We are so bewildered to read that a trusted family friend and priest would make our neighbours endure sexual abuse as children, resulting in severe breakdowns as adults and the need for ongoing treatment and support for the rest of their lives.

 

It seems so unjust that this priest was able to escape punishment for his actions, and could be given an Order of Australia and other honours, without anyone knowing what he did, while his victims endured years and years of suffering.

 

And our beloved Danny Boy memory is now a pain in The Derry Air.

 

PAGE THIRTY-EIGHT: from girlfriend to fiancée

I loved having a girlfriend who did cartwheels, played the flute and piano beautifully and who was such fun to be with. Joan was doing the second year of the performer's DSCM (Diploma of the Sydney Conservatorium of Music), when she was in sixth form, while I was in first year Dip Mus Ed at Newcastle Conservatorium and Teacher's College.

We were excited to discover that we both had to attend the same Acoustics class. I can't say I remember a lot about Acoustics, though I do remember Eric Aubert, taking out a tuning hammer and demonstrating how a piano is tuned. I also remember who I sat next to for each lesson.

The next year, our choir conductor, Michael Dudman, noticing that Joan and I seemed to enjoy being together, asked us if we would arrange the orchestral reduction in the Bach Mass in B Minor vocal score to be played by two pianos. We only had to do a little reorganisation, and were soon happily practising the Gloria section, which was the first part the choir was going to perform.

I also loved the way that Joan expressed her new-found Christian faith by making posters and putting them up on the walls in her home. I can't help thinking of this when I read some of these passages in the Bible. One of these came to mind last week, when Pastor Mark Sutton was preaching from Peter's first Letter:

Humble yourselves therefore,
under the mighty hand of God
that he may exalt you in due time.
Casting all your care on him,
for he careth for you.

And I also remember the verse that Joan put on a poster in the kitchen in her Colarado St home:

Whether you eat or drink
or whatever you do
do it all to the glory of God.

In the second half of 1972, I was accepted to be part of a Youth For Christ team travelling to Singapore, Sri Lanka, India, Bangla Desh and Nepal, in January, 1973. The plan was that we would meet at the YFC Gold Coast camp and rehearse for a couple of weeks, before leaving for India, with Eric Leach, who was to be the speaker.

I thought I was going along to play the piano, but there were three pianists in the team, and my friend Mary Patty was chosen as the pianist. My role was to sing. Now, although I had sung in school choral groups and choirs, I had never sung professionally and have not been favoured with much of a voice, though I can sing in tune and hold a part.

They did allow the three pianists to play a piano trio arrangement of Ralph Carmichael's song, He's Everything To Me, which we enjoyed doing. But it wasn't easy for me to play a piano that was a semitone sharp, in one of the towns we visited briefly. My acute sense of pitch made this an excruciating experience, because when I played a chord that looked and felt like B major, it would come out sounding like a C. Very off-putting.

From the time that Joan and I began spending time together, I couldn't imagine ever splitting up, or wanting to be with anybody else. But I was only nineteen, Mum would remind me. However, after I was accepted for the team travelling to India, Mum told me that this might be a good time to give Joan some security by announcing my intentions. I proposed to her the next day, 19th December, 1972.

Don't laugh, but I asked her if she'd like to be a minister's wife, and she replied that it all depended who the minister was. This photo was taken just after we got engaged.

Communication was very different back in 1973 when I was in India. I was unable to ring Joan, and relied on getting a letter from her and sending letters to her. I missed her tremendously, though I look happy enough in this photo taken in India. (I've got the archetypical one at the Taj Mahal somewhere, but can't put my hands on it, at the moment.) In the photo, I'm wearing an Indian shirt and a very uncomfortable coat made of yak hairs.

The jokes about our Australian accent are true: other people really do hear us quite differently from how we hear ourselves.So when I bowled up to an Indian man called Nicanor, hoping he had a letter from Joan for me, I asked "Any mail?" and he replied. "No. We only have kilometres in India!"

Then he told me a favourite Indian joke: an Australian doctor, working in India asks a hospital patient

Did you come here to today?

and the patient replies

No, I came here to live!

and runs out of the room.

It was an eye opener seeing the huge differences in the lifestyles of people in India and neighbouring countries. It was also odd, seeing how differently some of the missionaries' lives were from the people they were serving. A Canadian Lutheran family in a southern Indian town had maple syrup flown in, but I was grateful they had Western toilets. I couldn't come to terms with the holes in the ground in other parts of India that we were sent to, when nature called, nor the long periods of travelling time where there were no toilets available at all.

It was in India where I heard this parody on We Three Kings of Orient, Are. Back in 1973, Indians were as mad about the Beatles as the rest of the world had been in 1964.

We four Beatles of Liverpool are
John in a taxi
George in a car
Paul on a bicycle
licking an icicle
following Ringo Starr

Witty, isn't it!

When I arrived back in Australia, I was so pleased to see Joan again. I knew that I never wanted another period of five whole weeks away from her.

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PAGE THIRTY-FOUR: just the beginning

When I was in sixth form, I started a performance diploma course at Newcastle Conservatorium. It was a great experience, but I didn't last the year out.

I remember being nervous playing in this concert: but I still love playing the second movement of Beethoven's Sonata in E Flat major, op 7. The whole sonata is a terrific piece of music. A girl called Joan Sims played the Caprice from Bach's Partita in C Minor.

Anne Moss was a Christian girl and once took Joan and myself to a youth meeting (if I remember correctly) at St Augustine's church in Merewether. I adore the Chopin Scherzo in B Flat Minor. She played it so well, showing off its beauty and drama. I wonder whatever happened to Anne?

 
The next year, I attended a concert where William Coombes sang. He was a wonderful singer, and sang so naturally. We were privileged to hear him sing Vaughan Williams' Songs of Travel, and later the solo part in the Fauré Requiem.

It was 13th August, the day that Joan Sims got her driver's licence. I congratulated her, shaking her hand, which was rather courageous of me.

We sat together in the concert, which I enjoyed very much.

One month later, I bought Joan a present for her 18th birthday, which was Don Burrows' Just The Beginning, because I was hoping that this was just the beginning of our friendship.

It was the first Australian jazz recording to "go gold", and sell ten thousand copies.It has been made a part of The National Registry of Recorded Sound. Two of my favourite tracks are the first one, Passing the Bach and the group's terrific arrangement of Tárrega's Recuerdos, featuring the familiar intricate guitar part, but also Don Burrows' wonderful alto flute playing.

Before long, this beautiful girl played Debussy's First Arabesque for me. I was taken aback by the sensitivity in her playing. I had little nuance in my playing before I met Joan. I've certainly learnt plenty from my piano teachers, but more from Joan, who is a wonderful musician and teacher.

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PAGE TWENTY-ONE: music in our house

Christopher, David, Malcolm, Robin, Margaret and Sheena McKay

They say nostalgia isn't what it used to be. There are certain pieces of music that remind me of people and places. But they may not be as memorable to them as they are to me!

When I think of my brother Christopher, I remember playing this movement from Bach's Cantata BWV 140 together: I played piano, while he played the lower part on bass guitar. I've still got the music we used ... somewhere. Christopher used to call it Watch it, oaf!

I hope you enjoy this pleasant performance by Steve Howe and friends. I never knew that he was venturing beyond Prog Rock until I hunted for a nice video to share.

I can remember each of my brothers and sisters singing, but Malcolm was the one with the best voice. He followed me to the Newcastle Conservatorium and learnt from the best singer there, I thought. I always loved hearing William Coombes sing: he sounded so natural. Malcolm used to sound great singing Purcell's Man is for the woman made. He has a baritone voice. All of the recordings I can find are sung by tenors or countertenors. But I think Paul Agnew does it justice.

We had a bakelite radio which looked a little like this one, but it was cream, not black and pink. We heard so much great music on that modest AM radio.

The first piece of popular music that arrested me was Lloyd Price singing Personality. I think Mum was bemused by how much it captivated me. I first heard it in about 1959 and it still gets my heart racing.

I often think of Robin singing the hook of Hello, Hello: who's your lady friend? but I don't know where she got it from. It is a very old piece of music, Youtube reveals.

Margaret used to enjoy listening to the old radio, and I remember her singing along to Dinah Lee's version of Don't You Know, Yockomo?

But although Christopher, Malcolm, Robin and Margaret may have forgotten these pieces of music which I associate with them, I'm confident that Sheena remembers this song, though she was a fan a bit later than when she was photographed with her brothers and sisters for the picture I've headed this page with.

Sheena loved Suzi Quatro, and I think she still does. And what is more quintessentially Suzi Q than Devilgate Drive?

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