The loving plagiarist
William Barrington-Coupe, who issued other people's recordings under his wife's name, has admitted his actions. He says he wanted his wife to receive the praise ill-health had denied her:
On its Web site on Monday, Gramophone said that in his letter to BIS Records, Mr. Barrington-Coupe said he had used other pianists’ recordings to give his wife “the illusion of a great end to an unfairly (as he terms it) overlooked career.”
Mr. Barrington-Coupe is quoted as saying that after CD technology arrived in the early 1980s, his attempts to transfer her cassette recordings to CDs proved unsuccessful. He and his wife therefore decided to re-record her repertory.
“Although she kept up a rigorous practice regime, Barrington-Coupe says that Hatto was suffering more than she admitted, even to herself,” Mr. Inverne wrote. “Recording session after recording session was marred by her many grunts of pain as she played, and her husband was at a loss to know how to cover the problem passages.”
Mr. Barrington-Coupe is quoted as saying that after CD technology arrived in the early 1980s, his attempts to transfer her cassette recordings to CDs proved unsuccessful. He and his wife therefore decided to re-record her repertory.
“Although she kept up a rigorous practice regime, Barrington-Coupe says that Hatto was suffering more than she admitted, even to herself,” Mr. Inverne wrote. “Recording session after recording session was marred by her many grunts of pain as she played, and her husband was at a loss to know how to cover the problem passages.”
Barrington-Coupe insists his wife, Joyce Hatto, was unaware he had started to use passages of other people's work to cover her weaker parts.
He may have been misguided, but he was motivated by love. Part of me wonders if it might have been better if we'd never known:
But Mr. Barrington-Coupe, 76, apparently declined to provide more information in his conversation with [Gramophone editor James] Inverne on Monday. “I’m tired,” Mr. Inverne quoted him as saying. “I’m not very well. I’ve closed the operation down. I’ve had the stock completely destroyed, and I’m not producing more. Now I just want a little bit of peace.”
Let's hope nobody is as vindictive to use copyright law to make the story have an even more heartbreaking end.
3 comments:
After reading that, I hope someone does take him to court: he's lying his head off.
Every CD that has been tested has proved to be entirely the work of other pianists, not just "patched". He also can't explain why, if he was concerned only for his wife's wellbeing, he plagiarised entire symphony orchestra recordings, nor why he kept releasing "new" recordings after Hatto's death.
Maybe he just got carried away, and thought that carrying on would cover his tracks? Perhaps he simply wasn't very good at the task.
Maybe watching his wife die in pain fractured his judgement.
If he hadn't lied repeatedly over this and his previous dodgy enterprises, people might have taken this "confession" at face value.
Nobody was sure whether or not Hatto was aware of her husband's deception, but the way he describes it has neatly implicated his dead wife in the sordid business. Real classy.
Post a Comment
As a general rule, posts will only be deleted if they reek of spam.