Martin Buzacott

Sydney: ABC Books 2007

ISBN 9780733318849 487pp

Reviewed by Elizabeth Silsbury

Warning: Readers will note that there are very few names named in this review. There were so many deserving of mention, I had no idea how to choose, and no wish to suffer the wrath of those omitted. Do it yourselves.

 For the first 15 of my 75 (happy birthday to us, me and the ABC) years we had no radio in the house. We all sang and played the piano. When a kind neighbour gave us an old wireless we listened to Much Binding in the Marsh and Gently Bentley. Music didn’t come out of a box. It was to be heard live, at the very point of its making.

To this day, recordings and broadcasts, however faithful, come a poor second to the on-the-spot, unmanipulated, undoctored (well, nearly) honesty of musicians doing their stuff in real time as I watch.

Now, of course, and for the last 50 years at least, life without the ABC would for millions of Australians be immeasurably poorer. The boost in quality to ABC-FM, established in Adelaide in 1976, has undoubtedly increased the discrimination of listeners and challenged the standards of performers.

Martin Buzacott’s book is a treasure trove, a goldmine of information, anecdotes and even the odd bit of gossip.

His starting point is the death of Dame Nellie Melba on 23 February 1931, followed by The Heinze Era 1932-1945. Politics and politicians, musicians and administrators are woven into the story of how small orchestras became big ones and survived, how dance bands, brass bands and choral groups came under the broadcaster’s umbrella and eventually all went.

Himself a respected music critic, Buzacott enlivens what might have been a bald and uninteresting narrative with the artistic verisimilitude of comments such as the ‘agricultural roughness’ of conductor E J Roberts, nicknamed ‘Shellshock’ and better known as golfer than conductor for the National Broadcasting Symphony Orchestra at the inaugural ceremony for the new Australian Broadcasting Commission on 1 July 1932.

Throughout, Buzacott refreshes our memories of the distinguished Australian and international conductors and soloists who have endured sometimes arduous schedules flying around the country and were always expected, and usually managed, to deliver their very best. Pick out your favourites from the comprehensive index and follow their trails and trials. And note the increasing numbers of Australian composers whose careers were supported by broadcasts of their works.

Among the most distinguished is Sir Thomas Beecham. Although he is quoted at length, the story about him quitting a three-hour rehearsal (maybe in Sydney?) after ninety minutes, the second after thirty and cancelling the third, replying to the manager’s protests with something like ‘My dear man, the first rehearsal was appalling. The second was execrable. If it goes on like this, imagine what the performance would be like!’ is not included. Apocryphal, probably. True, though, is the account of the disgraceful and summary termination of the last of the ABC wireless choruses, the Adelaide Singers, in 1976.

Progressing through the war years, struggles with money and shortage of competent players and changes at the top of the musical and administrative pyramid, Buzzacott brings us full circle to the point where the end of the ABC ownership of the major orchestras begins.

Dissatisfaction with ABC policies regarding orchestral programming and management was fizzing, certainly in Adelaide, in the early 70s. Specifically, complaints were made that decisions were being made in Sydney about what the South Australian orchestra should play and what soloists and conductors should visit, regardless of local needs and wishes. The overriding principle was serving the national broadcasting profile. A more general, and probably more serious accusation was the timidity and conservatism of the selected repertoire, still believed by many to be responsible (along with the equally tippy-toed Musica Viva) for encouraging generations of concert-goers to stay away from anything later than Debussy. Happily, that era seems to be receding somewhat.

Buzacott’s chapters on the reports into the ABC in general and the orchestras in particular will make the blood of those of us caught up in numerous public and private hearings boil all over again. From Malcolm Fraser’s razor gangster F J Green in 1975, through Dix (1981) and Tribe (1985) the burning question was whether the national broadcaster should also own and manage the major symphony orchestras. A bit like a recently forcibly retired Australian Prime Minister, the ABC steadfastly maintained that no one could do it as well as they could – until along came James Strong with a report so radical in its recommendations for  reductions in orchestral numbers that politicians (Alexander Downer in SA) were outraged and dragooned the governments into upping their funding. Some insiders believe that Strong was playing a very devious game and got the outcome he hoped for.

On 1 January 2007 all the state orchestras finally won their total independence.

Martin Buzacott has written Rite of Spring with the authority of one re-living a large chunk of his own life, and has done the same for countless numbers of listeners, performers, composers and critics. His book is a joy to read, even in the sad parts.