Felix Aprahamian, 90, Journalist, British Authority on Organ Music
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

Felix Aprahamian, who has died at age 90, was a self-taught musical polyglot who became known to a wide public through his thoughtful, erudite, and sparkling criticism.
He was a specialist in the organ repertoire, reportedly owning the largest private collection of work for the instrument, and a champion of French music. But above all he was an enthusiast who would travel far and wide to hear little-known talent, even when he was not required to write a review.
As a teenager, Aprahamian visited Delius at Grez-sur-Loing, and on the same trip sat alongside the elderly Widor in the organ loft. He never parted company from a musician without first collecting an autograph, and kept extensive and exquisitely crafted diaries narrating his musical encounters. They were all impeccably filed, as was his extensive correspondence with, among others, Messiaen.
Aprahamian became secretary of the Organ Music Society in 1931, at the age of 17, and during the Second World War worked as concert director for the London Philharmonic. In 1948, he was appointed deputy music critic at the Sunday Times of London, which for the next 41 years was his mouthpiece, his writing bringing unfailing pleasure to his readers. He became an unofficial assistant to Sir Thomas Beecham (who was much taken with Aprahamian’s knowledge of Delius), organized concerts for the Free French in London, and worked for United Music, largely promoting French composers.
Aprahamian invariably added a splash of color to the newspaper office, returning from a Saturday night concert in his black opera cloak with its scarlet satin lining, his white tie, and monocle to write up his review for the late edition. His neatly trimmed goatee beard never had a hair out of place, and his waistline was never far from generous.
In 1976 Aprahamian was one of the first people in Britain to invest in a set of headphones with a battery-operated radio hidden in the band over the head. He purchased it in Japan for L19, and was thrilled by the clear definition – and not just from the BBC. “I’ve even picked up news of disturbances in this very road and nudes in the telephone box in Duke’s Avenue,” he said when interviewed at home about overhearing police messages. On occasions he would point out to visitors a tree across the street from his front door where Poulenc, suddenly caught short, had once answered a call of nature.
Aprahamian was born in London on June 5, 1914, the son of an Armenian carpet dealer. At the age of 5 he moved with his parents to the house where he was to live for the rest of his life. He took organ lessons locally, becoming a master of the instrument and counting among his friends another outstanding organist, William Lloyd Webber, father of Andrew and Julian.
His father used his contacts to find his son work in finance, but in vain; Felix spent much of his time at concerts. In 1944 he was instrumental in organizing the first performance of Tippett’s “Child of Our Time.”
Aprahamian was a tireless translator, writer, and editor, producing program notes that were always widely appreciated. He edited several books, including two anthologies of Ernest Newman’s writings (1956 and 1958) and a collection of weekly appreciations from the Listener (1967). His reviews for Gramophone were widely read, but he struggled to meet his deadlines and was dropped after 11 years.
His career on the Sunday Times ended after the paper printed his review of a concert conducted by Gennadi Rozhdestvensky when the conductor had, in fact, been too unwell to attend. Not that failing to attend a concert had always been a problem: his first review (for the Daily Express) was, he admitted, of an event he had missed.
Aprahamian was a fearsome gourmet and regularly tended his exquisite Japanese floodlit garden. He was an ardent Proustian and kept a magnificent display of tropical fish.
Asked a direct question, he would generally proffer a direct answer. Questioned once about whether the music of Peter Maxwell-Davies and Harrison Birtwistle would last, he replied, to the approval of Bernard Levin: “Frankly, no.” He turned down the offer of the Order of the British Empire in 1987, but in 1996 accepted the appointment of Officer de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres for his promotion of French culture. His 80th birthday was marked in 1994 by a concert of predominantly French music given at a packed Wigmore Hall by the Nash Ensemble. On that occasion he was presented with a portrait of himself by the artist June Mendoza.
Latterly he was president of the Delius Society, and was delighted when a work by the composer was chosen by the Tyneside Metro system to be played over its public address system as a deterrent to vandals.
Felix Aprahamian died on January 15. He was unmarried.