Rosemary Brown and the Media

This photo of Rosemary Brown is from Survival of Death: Theories about the Nature of the Afterlife (1984) edited by Peter Bookesmith.  The photo shows Rosemary receiving (or 'channeling') the composition "Mazurka in D flat" from Chopin as an American television company filmed her in 1980.
 

 

In Rosemary Brown's first autobiographical book Unfinished Symphonies (1971), she chronicled how she began to be noticed outside Spiritualist circles by "a wider public" in regard to her mediumistic association with famous composers who had made the transition to the ascended realm and were giving their new works to her.  One of these composers, Sir Donald Tovey, was quoted by Rosemary:

"In communicating through music and conversation, an organized group of musicians who have departed from your world, are attempting to establish a precept for humanity, i.e. that physical death is a transition from one state of consciousness to another wherein one retains one's individuality.  The realisation of this fact should assist man to a greater insight into his own nature and potential super-terrestrial activities."

 
Rosemary recounted how introductions were made for her to media representatives by her Spiritualist friends.
 

Opportunities were beginning to arise towards the end of 1966 which the composers wished me to accept.  One was the chance to meet a correspondent from one of the important daily newspapers, and the other to meet—both through Mrs. Wontner—Monica Sims of the B.B.C.

They were both pressing for an introduction so that they could interview me.


Monica did indeed produce a fine feature about the music which was broadcast on the 17th October [1968], with a repeat in the following December.  The first breaking of the ice had taken place, and the response by mail was really pleasing.


At the end of the following year, this first broadcast by the BBC stood in good stead to encourage to launching of a TV programme on the subject of music.  It began with the Sutton Young Spiritualists' Church, asking me to give a small concert for them.


They invited the local press to attend the gathering at their meeting place and we were very fortunate in having Catherine Sansom, then of the Sutton Herald, to attend.  She gave me a very good, excellently worded, write-up in her newspaper, and drew the attention of Peter Dorling, of the B.B.C., to the music.

After that, things really began to happen.  Before I knew where I was, the B.B.C. were preparing a programme on the music and after that many more journalists wanted interviews.  A recording contract with Philips came up and Liszt was delighted that at last he and the others were beginning to get through to the world.

 
In 1969, Rosemary agreed to the B.B.C. Third programme making a documentary film about her work.  She described what resulted as "to some extent the kind of gruelling, third degree test, which has become all too familiar."
 

And then they asked me to attempt something which I have been asked to do many times.  Would I, could I, work with one of the composers while the B.B.C. were there?  My heart did rather sink at the suggestion.  As I have explained, there are days when there is no contact at all with the other side, and I never know whether communication will, in fact, take place.

"I'll try," I said, "but I can't guarantee anything.  It is  possible that absolutely nothing will happen.  All I can do is make an attempt."

The B.B.C. were prepared to agree to this, and back to Balham we all went, Geoffrey Skelton and Daniel Snowman who were making the programme, along with a sound recording engineer and all his equipment, and we all got ourselves settled down in the room where I work.  I supplied cups of tea for the officials and waited to see whether anything would happen.

It only was a matter of minutes before there was Liszt, as reliable as ever, looking very calm and composed and telling me in his rather Victorian, slightly pedantic manner he was willing to attempt to communicate a new piece of music.

"Be sure you give me something spectacular," I said to him, and he just smiled in a knowing sort of way.

Until that time Liszt worked by letting me hear his music first, either in my head or through guiding my hands at the piano.  This time he indicated he wanted me to write the music as he dictated it to me.  I was to write it straight on to a music MS although I was sitting at the piano.

First of all he gave me the key signature.

"There are six sharps," he said, "and the music will be 5-4 time in the right hand and 3-2 time in the left."

Very difficult.  I turned around indignantly to see him looking quite pleased with himself and said to Geoffrey Skelton after explaining what the instructions had been:  "I don't think that's very fair.  Trying to put something as complicated as that across to me while you're here."  I had never had such a tricky kind of music from him before.  In the past most of the music, though sometimes difficult to play, had been very straightforward 3-4 or 4-4 timing.  Nothing too involved.

"Now try," Liszt said soothingly.  "Come on."  And he looked so confident that he could do it that it gave me confidence.  Well, I thought, here goes, and we were off.  He first gave me four bars of the left hand, and then he began to give me the right hand.  It all looked very disjointed.  The top line seemed to ramble all over the place, there were funny looking chords, and he seemed to be throwing in accidentals all over the place.

After I'd written about twenty bars I was becoming worried.  My difficulty is that I can't tell what music sounds like by looking at it and thought: "What can it sound like?  It all looks so funny.  It can't make sense."

So I asked Liszt to wait a moment and said to Geoffrey Skelton, "Do you mind if I try to play this?"

He didn't mind, but I found it far too difficult for me to sight read.  I couldn't play the 5-4 timing against the 3-2 and I was getting myself in a worse and worse muddle.  I tried to work the timing out mathematically down the margin, but that wasn't helping much either.  And then Geoffrey Skelton asked whether I minded if he tried to play it.

I didn't know it till then, but he is a good pianist.  He looked at the music for a few seconds and then played it without a great deal of effort.  It sounded rather interesting to me, but when he finished there was a deadly hush.  I was apprehensive that he was going to say he didn't think much of it.  Then he turned around, very, very slowly and said: "Mrs. Brown, I think you've got something here."

At that, my heart leapt with relief!  Thank heavens, I thought, it's all right.  And I settled down to taking the rest of the piece from Liszt who was standing there looking amused to think that I had had qualms over his new piece of music.  I was saying mentally to Liszt, "Why don't you give me something more spectacular?"  He gave me a wry smile and said: "I think you will find that this will impress the B.B.C. gentlemen more favorably than a composition in the nature of a Hungarian rhapsody or a brilliant concert piece."

The piece of music, which Liszt called "Grübelei," was soon completed and Geoffrey Skelton took it away to show a distinguished musicologist named Humphrey Searle, who is a Liszt expert.  He was impressed with the piece, just as Liszt had predicted.

  

 

Rosemary's second book Immortals at My Elbow (1974) presented her perspective of journalists.  The book's American title was Immortals By My Side (1975).

Criticism is sometimes levelled against reporters in general, alleging that they are a hard-headed, hard-hearted lot who will spare no-one to get a story.  In my experience, this is not the case at all, at least, not with the majority of journalists.  I have, naturally, had a mixed reception from the Press, but on the whole I feel it has given me a fair hearing and a fair deal in its reports.

 

She attributed the occasional misquotes as being due to some point having not been made clear,  or through hurried editing or type-setting.  She acknowledged: "There have been the inevitable snide remarks and nasty insinuations here and there — I dare say as a result of some journalists not knowing what to make of my work, and deciding to play it safe by making a show of sarcastic disbelief! . . . When being interviewed by the Press, I have sometimes been given staunch support from the Spirit World.  It is good to know that there are kindly souls on my side there, and this knowledge helps me to bear with the over-sceptical here."

Among the people working in the media who had allowed Rosemary to publish an account of her experiences with them were photographer Tom Blau, News of the World reporter Unity Hall, Vicki Mackenzie of the Daily Mail, and Georgina Nazer of the Wimbledon News.

 

The following excerpt is from Rosemary Brown's third autobiographical book Look Beyond Today (1986) written with Sandra White. 

Besides bringing comfort and love, spirits have also stepped in to stop me being made a fool of.  Obviously, people like me are fair game for sceptics, and I don't often get interviewed by the media without their trying to catch me out in some way.  After my first book was published, for instance, there was a great deal of media interest and I was invited here, there and everywhere.  I found it pretty nervewracking to have to defend myself and my beliefs time and again.  While I wanted people to know abut the music, I felt that I was being treated rather harshly by being put into situations where I had to battle to convince people of my sincerity.

I was once invited to appear on Richard Baker's Start the Week on Radio Four.  I was informed beforehand by Liszt that a contemporary composer who is a trained and brilliant musician would play musical pastiches in the style of various composers, and then ask me to play something too.  The clear inference was that I was doing the same thing as he was, merely imitating a style.

But I am not a trained musician.  I have no natural talent, no wide musical knowledge, and certainly no desire to perform party-trick pieces like "Chopsticks" in the style of Rachmaninov.  The compositions I produce are not skilful pastiches, but entirely new works which bear all the characteristic style of their composers while containing no more than the odd bar or two echoed from a previous work.  I was understandably worried about this proposed ordeal but Liszt appeared the night before and tried to put my mind at rest.  "Get in first," he said.  "Tell them you know about people who can produce music in the style of a certain composer, but they are trained musicians, whereas you are not."

The BBC sent a car for me, but we got caught up in a traffic jam in Putney.  We were stuck for over an hour, with the driver getting into quite a stew though I stayed surprisingly calm.  When we eventually got to the BBC, the program was nearly over.  I was rushed into the studio where Richard Baker was already talking about my work.  There was hardly time for me to do or say anything, but I sat down and did manage to say my piece exactly as Liszt had told me to.  Then I went to the piano and played just a few bars of music given to me by Liszt.  I didn't have time really to illustrate anything much, but I felt I'd put my case as well as I could.  Afterwards, Richard Baker told me he was astonished that I was able to refute all the points he was going to make before he had so much as opened his mouth.  He was caught a bit off-guard, just as I had feared I would be!

The spirits often do forewarn me, and tell me what to do and say on these occasions, which is a great help as I am a fairly simple person.  Knowing that I have the backing and support of Liszt and the others gives me the courage to go on.

On one occasion, Liszt even came up with a 'party trick' to help me get through a very difficult encounter.  I was going to be interviewed on television in Birmingham by a lady called  Wendy Cooper.  One of my previous books had just been published and the television people were calling in a computer expert who was going to use his professional knowledge to analyse my music and say whether it was genuine or not.


I felt very uncomfortable but Liszt said to me, "Don't worry.  Everything will be all right."

Just before we went on the air, the studio was very busy with technicians everywhere.  I hadn't even seen a copy of my new book yet myself so I picked up the review copy which was to be flashed on screen.  I looked at it, then Wendy took it back and placed it on the piano stool — they had brought in a piano because they wanted me to play some of my pieces from the composers.  After putting down the book, we went and sat some distance away.  There was no one near the piano at all, but I saw Liszt walk over to it and then pick up the book to have a look at the jacket.  He was curious, too.  He had a good look then put it down.  Everyone saw the book move but they could not see Liszt lifting it up.  All they saw was the book rising up from the stool, hovering in mid-air, and then sinking down again.  Everyone about me was thunderstruck.  I said, "That's Liszt.  He just wanted to look at the book."  From that moment on, my credibility rocketed.  Everyone was looking at me in a different light, and even the computer genius declared my music genuine!

Wendy subsequently wrote an article about this in the Birmingham Post in which she said:

"In the past I have certainly been sceptical where the supernatural is concerned, and none of the mediums or clairvoyants I have met and interviewed has done anything to change my mind.

"Rosemary Brown has — or at the very least she has forced my mind open to the fact that there is something about her story and her music that defies rational explanation."

Rosemary may be heard speaking about her mediumship in this 1973 conversation available on YouTube that includes commentary about "Grübelei."