Soundscapes

Many readers will remember Paul at one or more of his appearances on Network platforms. While he had a NESTA Fellowship, he came to Oxford and performed Bach's partita in D minor while a Eurhythmist improvised dancing movements to accompany him - the music was in fact written as dance music. He then played the piece again in a church at a conference in Bath, where he also interviewed Sir John Tavener about the creative process in music. This encounter led to the creation of one of his final works, Towards Silence, which Paul was eventually able to perform. However, in the interim, the main artery in his heart ruptured and he nearly died. Meantime, Sir John was also in hospital with a serious heart condition.

Paul describes all this in the book, and the incredibly hard and long road to recovery, literally inch by inch. He was told he would never play the violin again; he did. And most beautifully and poignantly at two more Mystics and Scientists conferences, the last one in 2015. He explained how life had been reduced to its essentials, describing what he called a second simplicity, which TS Eliot said cost not less than everything; true in Paul's case. In a recent piece from the Sunday Times News Review, shortly after Paul had died, the journalist describes how he had asked his daughter to provide him with a piece of paper on which he wrote down a few words, which were: morality, kindness, simplicity, compassion, forgiveness, empathy, gratitude, patience, understanding, equality. What a list! In common with the message from other near death experiences, we have a recipe for a true and deeply human life, something to which we can all aspire. There is also a tragic element, reflected in the conversation he reports as a young man with one of his mentors Sir Clifford Curzon. He asked him about the significance of music: 'consolation', he said. 'Consolation for what?' asked Paul. 'For life', he replied.

Paul's journey is a remarkable one by any standards. He was brought up in a caravan in Oxford, and his father was a radical Marxist. He encountered the violin at the age of eight, when some free lessons were offered at his school. As soon as he picked the instrument up, he had a strange feeling of familiarity (he later had flashbacks of being on stage as a violinist at a different time and place) and knew immediately that he wanted to become a violinist, which he duly announced to his parents on returning home. He recognised the vast amount of work involved, and devoted himself single-mindedly to perfecting his technique. When it came to the time that he needed a proper instrument that was going to cost £80, his father told him that they did not have that kind of money, but he could try the pools. He filled out card using the fingering of a Mozart piece he was currently working on, and duly won £80! Later, it seems, they had a much more substantial win and were able to move house and buy another as a rental property.

When he meets his first important teacher, Manoug Parikian, he is asked if he wants to become an amateur or professional – 'a professional of course', he replies. He sketches some wonderfully amusing vignettes involving Manoug, who spared no effort and expense in trying to become an English gentleman - some of these incidents literally made me laugh out loud. There are some equally entertaining episodes connected with learning how to take tea with Curzon. Paul has a wonderful eye for the absurd. The reader also learns about his encounters with other musicians such as Heifetz, Brendel, Marriner and Menuhin. His parting from Manoug around the time that he established the Medici Quartet was acrimonious, but it was extraordinary that he suddenly had an impulse, years later, to visit him. It was a happy reunion, and he heard on the radio that Manoug died the next day.

Paul devotes some analysis to the Pythagorean gap as the source of difficulties encountered even by accomplished musicians in trying to play in tune together. This effectively means that perfection is inherently unachievable and yet, for Paul, 'the inescapable flaw at the heart of living and of creativity is the source of depth, integrity and beauty.' (p. 122) During the period of his recovery, he looks back on his time with the quartet and realises how his arrogance and ambition had led him to disregard the needs of his fellow players. There is a searing honesty in his self-appraisal which is a mark of rare integrity. He is convinced that judgement is a key part of dying, and that there is always a moral balance underlying our lives. He feels that our work with others is 'essentially a moral exploration by which we learn how best to express our relationship with our true Selves.' (p. 112) For him, this means that human life is primarily defined as a moral force. He concludes (p. 174) that 'throughout the universe, just as in ourselves, there is always a moral consciousness at work; one level reflects an all-knowing consciousness and the other expresses that smaller part we call 'I'. That's the way it is.'

A further important lesson that Paul conveys is the need to surrender and let go. This is most graphically illustrated in his decision to sell his violin. At a musical level, surrender represents being in the flow rather than trying to control things, while more generally he found that being ill was a very powerful way of shedding unnecessary attachments, 'particularly the deep and abiding need for such things as a career, success and public recognition.' (p. 71) Ultimately, this means dying to the ego and letting go of life itself. As Paul puts it: 'as I lay there waiting, I felt myself die – beautifully, ecstatically, transcendently. I saw eternity and shed the whole of myself joyfully in order to become unified with it.' (p. 6)

Another important influence in Paul's life was Dr Francis Roles of The Study Society. For him, consciousness means knowing the truth, while conscience is feeling the truth through the door the heart. Paul describes his presence and his love of truth. Even at their first meeting, Dr Roles tells him that he had everything required to become a complete person, but that he also had an almighty ego, which he would have to learn to let go of. This is the very process described after his illness.

If one of Paul's great loves was Bach, another enormously significant figure is Beethoven, especially his late quartets. The reader already has an idea of Paul's devotion to the highest standards in a story where he describes a preparatory concert before their debut at All Souls, Langham Place. Due to an oversight on timing, the only apparent audience was three tramps and a dog but Paul insisted on playing. At the end, a man who had been listening comes up and offers his support – Eric Thomson turns out to be a Deputy Director of the Arts Council. Learning the Beethoven quartets is a real odyssey requiring all the players to dig very deep. An unusual auction at the Queen Elizabeth Hall raises £45,000 to subsidise their study of the quartets - they spent three years learning them and two more recording them. Paul provides the reader with some detailed analysis of Opus 130 and 131, remarking how these quartets demand a deep sacrifice on the part of the players, who have to be in a willing state of maximum discomfort to generate the necessary tension. This enables them to convey the precise emotional states carried within the music.

Playing Bach is a different experience altogether – Paul is able to lose himself in the music in a 'wonderful unification of our normally divided sense of Self.' (p. 242) Elsewhere, he writes about becoming locked into the divine mechanism of the universe, and he explains the fascinating work of Professor Helga Thoene on the hidden symbolism of the violin partitas and the way they intertwine with chorales (you can find a summary in the Hilliard Ensemble recording, but do also order the Medici Complete Beethoven Quartets).

Overall, this is a rich, intense and deeply moving as well as instructive journey through music and life, plumbing the depths and rising to the heights of the human condition. I encourage everyone to read the book for themselves and in closing can do no better than repeat his message on that piece of paper: morality, kindness, simplicity, compassion, forgiveness, empathy, gratitude, patience, understanding, equality.