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22 July, 2014. For the first time in nearly 400 years - in fact, the first time since the role was created by Charles I in 1625 – the Master of the Queen’s Music is a woman. And no, she will not be known as "Mistress". The same title will do just fine.

The previous occupier of the role was Peter Maxwell Davies, a declared republican who managed to reconcile himself with his new royal payroll because he recognised the potential to dissent from the inside. He spoke up about the demise of state music education in the UK; he was furious about the war in Iraq. Likewise, when Judith Weir received her invitation letter, she said she didn’t want it to just mean writing pieces for royal occasions, but to use the platform to champion composer colleagues and the provision of music education for all.

Judith Weir’s appointment was met with widespread positivity. After all, she’s one of the most magnificent composers to come out of the UK, and one of the most down-to-earth. She came into professional music through working with amateur and community groups, brass bands and youth choirs. She’s a composer who can spin worlds of myth and enchantment while keeping her language concise, direct and deceptively simple. Her knack for storytelling is completely beguiling – as a writer of operas alone she’s one of the major composers of our time.

Take the Vanishing Bridegroom: a grand drama based on old supernatural yarns told through rich and eerie and sometimes caustic music, often in broad Scots and Gaelic. Or there’s King Harald’s Saga: a historical epic based on an Icelandic saga telling of King Harald’s failed invasion of England. It has a cast of thousands, including the entire Norwegian army – but it’s scored for solo soprano and lasts for 10 minutes.

Judith Weir once shared a flat in Glasgow with a bagpiper, but that doesn’t seem to have put her off folk music for life. In fact, it’s the very ethos of folk music – the integrity, the immediacy, the inclusiveness – that’s at the heart of how she makes music. Her combining of realism and magic is disarming: she makes fairy tales for modern Britain, musical sorcery for all society. And that’s what makes Judith Weir the most egalitarian Master of the Queen’s Music yet.

This is one of 100 significant musical moments explored by Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Radio 3’s Essential Classics as part of Our Classical Century, a Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú season celebrating a momentous 100 years in music from 1918 to 2018. Visit bbc.co.uk/ourclassicalcentury to watch and listen to all programmes in the season.

This is an archive recording by the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Symphony Orchestra and Chorus and BBc Singers conducted by Jiří BÄ›lohlávek.

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