Dorothy Howell, Genius Unexpected

In performing, listening to and writing about women composers I have been struck by the fact that often the music of the lesser known composers is the most sophisticated and ahead of its time. This is certainly the case with Dorothy Howell (1898-1982) whose music drew comparisons to Richard Strauss during her lifetime. A listen to her debut work, a symphonic tone poem “Lamia” at the Proms (she was just 21!) reveals a genius in this musical genre. My first listen to it reminded me of Paul Dukas’s wonderful “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” and I do think Disney has missed an opportunity to include her music in their Fantasia movies. Lamia’s music has so much that would make for good cinema: it’s episodic, dramatic and full of character.

Dorothy had a significant teaching career at the Royal Academy of Music for 46 years up until 1970, and in in her personal life was a breast cancer survivor who never married. She wrote orchestral works, sacred choral works, secular vocal works with orchestra, solo piano works, works for two pianos, vocal solo works, chamber works, and stage works. Her musical voice has been described as “distinctive and cosmopolitan.” Her church music was published, and she was active professionally as a pianist and private teacher as well.

A review of her debut stated: “Miss Dorothy Howell, who stepped into fame at the Queen’s Hall on Wednesday night, is the very antithesis of what the general public imagine a musical genius to be…adulation does not appeal to her, and while many people haunted her hotel, Miss Howell, happy and unmolested, spent the morning with her youngest brother Alfred and the animals at the Zoo.”

“Lamia” was inspired by the poem by the same name by Keats. Here is a sample:

(…) Do not all charms fly

At the mere touch of cold philosophy?

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:

We know her woof, her texture; she is

given

In the dull catalogue of common things.

Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings,

Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,

Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine—

Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile

made