James Galway is one of a kind, a flute player who became a household name, like Menuhin, Bernstein and Karajan, or, earlier in the century, Toscanini, Paderewski and Kreisler. And he has achieved that status not only through his flute playing - unique, immediately identifiable and unrivalled in its polish - but through ventures into varied musical domains, popular and traditional, as well as classical. On the home straight to his 60th birthday he has just released a tango album, and has been appointed Principal Guest Conductor of the London Mozart Players.
An opening question about the attractions of conducting yields a long answer that swirls and swerves with the instinct of a natural raconteur.
"I got into it by accident. I was playing in Amsterdam with an orchestra, a Mozart flute concerto. The conductor started the orchestra and he went off and sat down to listen. But, of course, it went wrong. So I corrected it as we went along, and did the whole thing. "And at the end of the rehearsal he said, `OK, I'll conduct it tonight.' And I said, `No you won't. Because you didn't rehearse it. How do I know that you're going to give me my speed that I just rehearsed?' This is a valid question. Because when a conductor is keyboard-trained, like a lot of conductors are, they don't have a feeling for the instrument, because a keyboard is only a means to an end. It's not something they actually sit down and play. "There are very few people who put their neck on the block, so to speak. I met Andy Litton - conductor of the Dallas SO - the other day, and he's learning off Prokofiev's Second Piano Concerto. He says, `I just want to show the boys that I still can do something.'
I admire him for that. And Lorin Maazel in his old age - excuse me, Lorin - took up the violin again and made an absolute runaway success with it. And there's Barenboim, who plays the piano, too, and Ashkenazy, and a number of others. "But there's a whole slew of them who play the piano well enough to sort-of, maybe give you an impression that they can play it, but that's all. "And there are very few other conductors who can actually take another instrument and play it. So what I'm saying is, they don't have the feeling for the speed of the thing. And a lot of them are not good at accompanying. It definitely is an art, that's for sure. "After I got a taste of this getting it right, I thought, `Why can't I do this all the time?' I began to look at my schedule, and I see this guy is going to conduct a Vivaldi flute concerto, and I thought, I don't want him conducting my Vivaldi flute concerto. I know he knows it's in D major and 4/4, but I'm sure he doesn't have a feeling about how it should really be. I began to cut down to people I knew were sure-fire, good accompanists.
"Then some orchestras said, `How about if you conduct the orchestra yourself and just do a concert?' And then I began to get into this new field of fresh grass, where every blade tasted great. I'm not exactly a beginner conductor, because I've done it a lot, but compared to any of the big conductors who've conducted The Ring, I'm a real beginner. But the difference between me and them is that I'm a beginner who delights in it, whereas these guys, I don't know if they are delighting in their true calling any more. "The difference between me and these guys is my living depends on what comes out of the flute. All you have to do is start doing enough bad concerts and you see the audience. . . the audience for me is still sold out, because they know they're going to hear something really good, and it doesn't matter what the music is.
"I just did a tour with Monica Huggett - the baroque violinist - and I loved every minute of it. We played some Couperin; and Couperin, unless you have a highly polished, perfumed performance, it doesn't live. We really worked together, and I got as close to her style as possible; she didn't give any quarter. There's no point - we don't want a watered-down Monica. "We want Monica to do what she does the best. And, blow me down, this thing - 14 movements - the audience was going crazy. Every day we rehearsed it - 23 concerts, even the last one - we rehearsed it. So there was every reason why it should be good. I believe with my beginning conducting, I have a sort of enthusiasm which I can bring to the people."
He sees conducting in terms of "chamber music, but on a much bigger scale" (a sentiment he expresses a number of times), and regards the greats (among whom he lists Furtwangler, Karajan, Bernstein) as individuals who not only had a special vision, but also the patience to work, sometimes to the annoyance of players, on fine detail. He'd like the chance to take on greater challenges as a conductor, pointing out that he has played Stockhausen's wind quintet, "which takes a bit of sorting out". The symphonies of Mahler, Sibelius and Stanford feature on his conducting wish list.
We touch on crossover records. The two important things are "the money they'll generate and if you can consider them artistically". Some of his own, he says, fail the latter test, although he singles out the collaboration with Phil Coulter as one he's particularly happy with.
What does he think it is that's kept him at the top? "Practising, and the joy of getting it right. At one point in my career I got into a lot of bad things and I didn't look after myself so well as I should. But then I caught myself on in time." He mentions the Bible. "There's a lot to be learned from actually studying it," which he does every morning, as well as keeping a journal and practising from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m.
Mention of the Bible brings him around to his upbringing. "As a kid, I was a typical Ulster Protestant. I went around thinking God was looking at me every five minutes. I wouldn't have done anything. I couldn't have taken a leak on a tree in case I'd have got struck down dead! That's how brainwashed we were.
"I don't approve of this separated school system that they have there. I feel ashamed that I never knew anyone with a real, true, beautiful Irish name."
The imminence of his 60th birthday prompts a few broader questions. Has his playing changed over the years? "The lyrical side of music which fails in a lot of players is now becoming much more developed when I play." And he sings his way through part of the Mozart Flute and Harp Concerto, to illustrate his way of weighting a cantabile line to carry it through more effectively from note to note. And, truth to tell, he sings with that paradoxically evocative approximation that is so typical of conductors.
IS he happy with the state of the musical world in 1999? No. He rails against the indifferent attitudes of performers. "In the old days people played with a sincerity they don't have now. You don't feel this depth of soul that you felt years ago." And he objects to what he sees as "a lot of sensationalism in the press". The concern, interestingly, is about orchestras, not about chamber music or recitals. And he expresses repeated professional delight at the commitment in performance of jazz players.
If there was one thing he could change about himself what would it be? "I would never drink any alcohol or take any drugs. If I could go back on my life these two things would be completely out. Life is much better without them. Life is much better without dope. And do you ever meet any old drug addicts?"
And what would he like to be remembered for, whether he has done it yet or not? "I'm not sure quite what. But I do know what I want my epitaph to be: `Do not stand and stare at my dust. Go and do the things that you must.' "
James Galway and pianist Phil- lip Moll play sonatas by Reinecke and Prokofiev, plus showpieces by Mouquet, Taffanel, Doppler and Morlacchi at the Waterfront Hall in Belfast next Tuesday, and at the National Concert Hall in Dublin next Wednesday.
