I was utterly fascinated by PJ Taylor’s detailed letter re his reactions to HB’s works; my congratulations to him for writing it and to you for publishing it in the NL. While I do not entirely agree with him piece for piece I think most of his points are generally well taken re the total output of what was in essence a 70 year career. Unlike Mr Taylor, I have all 32 of the symphonies and, I think, everything else that has ever been taped. Based on that I can say that, yes, the totality of the oeuvre is ‘uneven’, but name me a composer of any worth whatsoever who didn’t write his share of bombs and duds and shrugs.

Shall we cite Wellington’s victory to begin with and go on to the lesser Haydn symphonies, say the ones in the 30s or 70s (yes, I know that no doubt these works have their champions, but generally speaking I think it is agreed that they are still for the most part not the greatest advertisements for their creators): at least Brian isn’t a Bruch who had one (well, two maybe) single spark of genius which fizzled the moment it was committed to stave, or a Reznicek who is known for an overture but not the opera to which it is attached.

How dare a man from his background expect anyone of culture to take his musical pretensions seriously? Too many cold shoulders and short shrifts make a creative person curdle within; how many out-of-hand rejections does it take before he doesn’t want to bother simply because he knows from the start what the reaction will be? (By which I mean that the piece under review would be returned on the basis that it is no good when most probably - most certainly - it was not even studied at all.) That the man persevered even in the face of this is astounding; most would have gone into teaching, or drinking, or suicide.

But, of absolute necessity, the ears had to be shut off when it came to criticism, both from without and, more importantly, within. One has to be completely and utterly convinced that what one is doing is important and that eventually – finally – it will be recognized, and appreciated. Towards that end one leaps with excessive gratitude toward anyone at all who says a kind word, especially if it comes from out of the blue; I refer, of course, to the support Brian finally enjoyed from Robert Simpson. If but one person and one alone says to the neglected craftsman ‘I like your work, I think that what you do is good, or better than good’, it is sufficient to fuel the creative engine. In effect, it gives you an audience. It is very important to have an audience, small though it be, especially if your aim is the stratosphere...

… and here, too, Mr Taylor is bullseye. For Brian, as for Mahler, it is greatness or nothing. Where he and I tend to differ is that I am convinced that Brian’s greatness comes primarily from the fact that he was ‘untutored’ or, more accurately, self-taught. My theory of creative genius is in large measure based on that. When a talented youngster goes to an accredited school to learn his craft he learns it ‘properly’, as his teachers command. Oh, there is lip service to individuality, of course, but that’s all it is, I’m afraid. One can be ‘creative’ only within the boundaries, adhering to all the rules, particularly when it comes to structure and the getting from A to B to Z. A man who has to in effect rediscover the wheel might very well, if he is a true creator, rediscover it in a way nobody else ever thought of before… which at first usually makes the establishment reject it, utterly. That is just wrong, they sneer; it isn’t done that way.