Nutty Slack

[Martin Cooke]

There's a short piece in the online Daily Mail today recalling the smog in London in December 1952 caused by a combination of what the DM calls a freak anti-cyclone over London and very cold weather that caused people to pile cheap coal on their fires to keep warm. This cheap, post-war coal was called Nutty Slack. I wasn't around in 1952, so what bell did this article start ringing for me?

Well, it's to do with a reminiscence of Noel Rawsthorne's, expressed in the volume Fanfare for Francis, compiled by friends, under the auspices of the Percy Whitlock Trust and published by Banks Music Publications, to mark FJ's 90th birthday in 2007, to which Noel contributed the eponymous first item.

He wrote thus:

Prior to an evening recital it was always a great delight to sit up in the organ loft to listen to Francis accompanying Evensong and to hear an improvised Sortie at the end of the service. 'Fanfare for Francis' is a birthday present inspired by such occasions, with a few of his crunchy progressions and what I used to call "nutty slack" chords, plus a few Tuba tunes thrown in for good luck!

[Colin Pykett]

I was around in 1952 and can certainly remember nutty slack.  However it wasn't long before it became illegal to use it with the introduction of 'smokeless zones', since it was the smoke from millions of domestic coal fires which contributed to the smogs in the first place.  In the smokeless zones one had to use coke instead.

What has this to do with music?  Because in that year I started having piano lessons, and had to practice in a totally unheated room.  Although most rooms in most houses had fire places in those days, only a couple of them were usually used during the week on account of the sheer slog involved in getting them going first thing in the morning - unless your family had 'servants' (what a dreadful word that is).  So all other rooms, passage ways, etc were ridiculously cold in most homes.    In these, one's breath steamed out of one's mouth like ectoplasm at a Victorian seance, and in the bedrooms a hot water bottle shoved under the sheets caused them to gently steam as well.

As for trying to play the piano, I knew when it was time to give up when my hands got red and blotchy with imminent chilblains and I started to lose the feeling in my fingers.  No exaggeration.

[Rowland Wateridge]

 

8 hours ago, Martin Cooke said:

Well, it's to do with a reminiscence of Noel Rawsthorne's, expressed in the volume Fanfare for Francis, compiled by friends, under the auspices of the Percy Whitlock Trust and published by Banks Music Publications, to mark FJ's 90th birthday in 2007, to which Noel contributed the eponymous first item.

He wrote thus:

Prior to an evening recital it was always a great delight to sit up in the organ loft to listen to Francis accompanying Evensong and to hear an improvised Sortie at the end of the service.

I also was around in 1952, or it might have been very slightly earlier, when my family embarked on a holiday visiting many of England’s cathedrals using an itinerary provided by the AA.  I think we got as far north as Carlisle, but for some reason never managed Durham.  Of many memories now 70 years later, the outstanding ones are of visiting York Minster.  My sister and I climbed to the very summit of the central tower.  That involved ‘walking the plank’ literally along the western edge of the roof of the south transept (later largely destroyed in the famous fire) with only a single iron guard rail, and a potential drop of at least 80 feet to the ground.  Afterwards we attended Evensong: our parents had sensibly stayed at ground level.  On that particular day the service was unaccompanied, sung by the Songmen (are they still called that?) entirely to plain chant.  As we left the quire after the service, I can only describe the impact of the sudden and unexpected sound of the organ as like an explosion!  It was full organ underpinned by pedal reeds, undoubtedly including the celebrated 32’ sackbut.  At that tender age, I could not have identified the music except that I’m certain it was not Widor V nor Vierne or Boëllman.   So the possibility exists that it might have been Francis Jackson’s improvised Sortie.