Charles Mackerras

The great Australian conductor Charles Mackerras has died, and it is the first time that the death of a musician has hit me like a personal loss.

I have so many wonderful memories of concerts in London and elsewhere with Sir Charles conducting; and some of the finest concerts I've ever been to were conducted by him.

All day, memories have been flooding back of concerts and operas conducted by Sir Charles. I am going to list the following, all of which I can remember vividly, although I'm sure there are others too.

I think I first saw him conducting a Mozart Piano Concerto and the Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique at the South Bank Centre many years ago. I was hearing the Berlioz for the first time and can remember my embarrassment at clapping vigorously at the end of the penultimate movement, along with others in the audience, thinking in my case that the Symphony had ended. Charles seemed to laugh and let the applause subside, before launching into an electrifying account of the true ending.

Elgar´s 1st Symphony. Again in the South Bank. My abiding memory is of sitting in the seats right behind the brass in the Choir. The Elgar was in the second half and as the musicians came on stage, and got ready to play, the principal tuba player gave me a wink, laughed and said: "Watch out mate, Sir Charles really loves us to go for it at the end". Sure enough, this is what happened, and I remember the visceral impact of the finale and feeling that I had had my proverbial brains blown out by the brass at the end of the performance.

Brahms Symphonies with the Philharmonia at the South Bank. I particularly remember the end of Brahms 2, which he conducted with such rhythmic glee and happiness; a feeling he also transmitted at the end of a glorious, glowing performance of Janacek's Sinfonietta, again at the South Bank.

Talking of Janacek, I heard the Makropolous Case - the first opera I heard in Oxford, aged 14 - conducted by Sir Charles at ENO a few years ago, and remember finding his conducting of that piece truly memorising: such passion, mastery, control. It was a strange production, which I now read Sir Charles didn´t like, but the quality of the singing and playing were of such a high quality it didn't matter.

In Mozart, I heard Sir Charles conduct Cosi at Covent Garden, Zauberflote in Glyndebourne and Covent Garden, and Don Giovanni and Figaro in Covent Garden. In life, the time where I have felt closest to hearing true musical perfection came on hearing Sir Charles conduct Figaro at the Opera House; I remember feeling from start to finish that his knowledge, understanding, tempi and love for the music made the whole work shimmer and glow like never before. I organised tickets for another performance, and am happy to have been with Mum, Nick (as with Don Giovanni), Natalia and others. His Mozart piano concertos were always wonderful too -- I remember queuing all day in Edinburgh to hear his farewell concert with Brendel playing two of the most lovely works, and congratulating them both at the end as they came out of the Usher Hall.

As a student at Oxford, I spent a cold December afternoon hearing Sir Charles rehearse the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment in St. Mary's Church; and then, a couple of years later, went with Emma Nicholson to his 80th birthday party, to which she had been invited, where the OAE played Haydn for Sir Charles in the Holywell Music Room. Emma, characteristically generously, had asked me to find a nice present for Sir Charles; I bought him a new and much-heralded recording of the Late Beethoven Quartets by the Takacs Quartet, and so we both presented him with the CD and a nice card when we met in the Sheldonian for drinks at the end.

A month later, a letter of thanks came to me by way of Edward Davey MP, who felt he had been written to by mistake; Sir Charles was very happy with the present, and I have the elegant, typed letter somewhere at home, sent from his home in Hamilton Terrace.

Also with Emma, and with a handful of Iraqi and Iranian doctors in tow, I remember a blazing and fantastic performance of Fidelio at the Barbican, also to celebrate his 80th birthday: he was always celebrating birthdays, Mum would joke...

I was wooing Natalia at the time, and remember having to slink off guiltily (and much to her annoyance, as she later told me) from an afternoon date in order to whizz across a sultry summer London on my bike to arrive in time for the concert. I remember being exulted by the Prisoners´Chorus and moved to tears in Leonore's final, exultant solo.

I also remember Sir Charles conducting Strauss, wangling a seat in the Royal Box at Covent Garden, after two hours´standing, in time to hear a translucent rendering of the final act of Rosenkavalier; and a prom a couple of years before, with my dear friend Ron, where we also heard Sir Charles conducting excerpts of the opera with Felicity Lott.

The last time I heard and saw him was in November 2009 with the musicians of the Royal College of Music, in a lovely, innately musical account of Handel's Semele, with the avuncular, probing Sir Charles conducting a troupe of young singers and accomplished Baroque-sounding musicians with characteristic elegance . Mum and I were moved as always, having smiled at him warmly as he came in, and applauding him warmly at the end.

I really loved the man, and will cherish the memories of his concerts and the wonderful recordings of his that I have (no more so than Mozart 41, with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra; which reminds me of another glorious concert with the Philharmonia, in which they played Wagner's Tannhauser Overture, Beethoven's Violin Concerto and then the Jupiter, with incredible aplomb. Ron was also with me for that concert, and spoke with great eloquence about Sir Charles' conducting at the end).

I will be sad not to see him conducting again, with his elegant left hand, perfect beat and capacity to emit a beaming smile during and at the beginning and end of concerts! But what a privilege to have heard him so much during the first decade of my classical music loving life. Goodbye, Sir Charles, and rest well. Your spirit will live on.