Thom de Klerk - Bassoonist

Bassoonist

De Klerk was an extrovert and he did not hide the extremities of his character. Living his life boldly, at least in the eyes of the average person of the fifties, which according to de Klerk’s son Thomas was perhaps rooted in his insecure home life as a child. His father once told him the story that once as a child he came home from school to discover that his parents had moved house! Possibly also due to his unstable upbringing Thom de Klerk was not the most easy going person to work with - some bassoonists were not prepared to play in the same group.

Professionally and emotionally moved he was a fervent admirer of the works of Mozart. ‘For Mozart I gladly play to the angels in heaven,’ he said more than once. On the other hand he was outspoken in his disapproval of the works of Anton Bruckner: ‘Ten measly notes in those damned almost never-ending symphonies,’ he exclaimed once in despair, his remedy being to fall asleep on stage during some of these concerts between those scarce notes. When a particular ostinato in the music was played or when the timpani were played in a certain sequence he had trained himself to wake up to perform his part meticulously, after which he again dozed off. This kind of behaviour could drive his fellow musicians to despair.

There is a particular anecdote that de Klerk once at rehearsals came on stage without his bassoon when the conductor Willem Mengelberg asked him, ‘Why don’t you play, Mister de Klerk?’ to which de Klerk replied, ‘My bassoon is at the pawn shop, if you give me some money, I will play again.’ He frequently got away with this typical de Klerk behaviour, because in company he usually had humour on his side - that was the kind of person he was. Though Thom de Klerk almost routinely manifested himself to be perhaps a polemical person, his former pupils, amongst whom Joep Terweij, will still not hear one iota of the reputed controversial attitude.

For an extremely gifted person like Thom de Klerk the provincial fifties atmosphere of his home country proved too small a basis to thrive. He felt more appreciated in the United States and the United Kingdom, or in Germany where culture was not the last entry in the book keeping of the realm, where a musician of his stature was addressed with the esteemed title of Herr Professor. How shrill and stinging the contrast was with the gossip in the neighbourhood in Amsterdam where he lived with his family, where it was whispered he probably was a criminal or a burglar because he always left home in the evening carrying a suitcase.

The recognition and acknowledgement of his unique way of playing the bassoon not only spread worldwide geographically but also in time. His name still produces many hits with all kinds of search engines, amongst which many testimonials of former pupils, now masters in their own right, who regard him and refer to him as their master.