Gertsamtkunstwerk

More TV alerts

Somewhat in the manner of London buses, there are several programmes scheduled soon on BBC TV that will be of interest to fans of opera and classical music.

Starting tonight on BBC2 with Purcell: The Londoner and continuing in subsequent weeks with Handel: The Conquering Hero, and then Haydn and Mendelssohn (ie getting more tenuous on the 'British' as we go along!). It's just an excuse to wallow in anniversaries of years ending in 9, of course. I could be churlish but I can assure you I shall be setting my Sky+

This coming Friday - note, a week earlier than previously advertised - is Purcell's Dido and Aeneas from ROH, starring Sarah Connolly, with some other notable performances.

I guess the Acis and Galatea part of the double bill will be shown the week after. But I'm sure we'll get more info nearer the time.

The Sky+ will be set.

Also potentially of interest is Bill Bailey's Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra , also tonight on BBC2.

Finally, in probably the nearest that ITV will get to 'culture' (The South Bank Show is set to be abolished) - The 2009 Classical Brit Awards at the Royal Albert Hall will be broadcast on Tuesday 19th May, at 10.35pm on ITV1. I imagine my Sky+ may be set. I wouldn't be surprised if selected highlights end up on Rapidshare and/or YouTube.

'Pure' classical chart launched

A new chart for "purely classical" music has been launched, the Official Charts Company has announced.

This seems like not a bad idea to me. It certainly makes no sense to have a 'classical' chart which is dominated by pop singers singing pop songs. There have been questions asked about a precise definition of classical, which is a fair question.

In many cases it will be obvious. In many more cases the 'walks like a duck' test applies.  I don't believe that you can turn a donkey into an elephant by calling it an elephant.

The 100% rule makes it easy to eliminate many quickly. Personally, I would not class hymns as 'classical' even when they are set to classical melodies (such as Be Still My Soul, which uses Sibelius's Finlandia) but I would include the various Ave Marias (Bach-Gounod, Mendelssohn, Mascagni etc), and I would include excerpts from Andrew Lloyd-Webber's Requiem.

I would generally exclude 'Musical Theatre' although that creates problems with Bernstein and, I think, Sondheim, for example. I think I would also exclude specifically composed Film Soundtracks, on the whole, but I suppose if they were arranged into an orchestral suite I would have to include them. Therefore, would I also include an orchestral suite of, say, Abba or Queen tunes (which exist!). Probably, because they are, in form and structure, quite different from a pop singer singing a pop song translated into Italian and accompanied by orchestra, which remains a pop song.

It has been observed that right now, number one on the Pure Classical chart is the Best of Gilbert and Sullivan, which, naturally, has created questions. Although I detest G&S with a vengeance I think that they, with their Verdi rip-offs, are as classical as the J Strauss family. Whereas Andrew Lloyd Webber's Puccini Plagiarism isn't.

All that having been said, ultimately, this chart has been invented for one reason only.

Opera snobs stick the knife in

Creation at the Barbican

2009, Bring it On!!!

The year is but 10 days old and the gauntlet has been thrown. We are already thinking about our Awards for 2009. Some of them will be hotly contested.

Best German Singer of 2009, a very tight category...Herr Kaufmann and Herr Pape, the heat is on. You have to beat the trio Of Thomas Quasthoff, Julia Kleiter and Maximillian Schmitt...actually, Julia was by far the weakest of the three and she was well above average.

Best tenor newcomer to me of 2009: give me someone better than the frighteningly young Maximillian Schmitt and I will be in Tenor Nirvana...what can I say about him - the worst I can say he is no Fritz Wunderlich. Lose  5 10 kilos and oh boy, you are set for Hunkentenor Status...he upstaged the remarkable and faultless Thomas Quasthoff. I worked out from his biog he might be as young as 25 and almost certainly not 30.

Best performance of 2009. there is still 11 and 2/3 months to go, but can I just say to all the opera singers who read this blog...the bar has been set at a very high level: emulate or exceed this performance and you will get my fervent praise

(yes yes, I know that technically Thomas Quasthoff isn 't really an opera singer, but opera/oratorio is interchangeable, and special circumstances apply to him who would be a very great opera singer if opera didn't have unreasonable physical demands...but I'd still love to see him as Don Giovanni, I think he would be excellent)

It was just fabulous. Far too fabulous to harp on the minor flaws and imperfections. Obviously they were off to a running start performing one of the most glorious pieces of music ever written. I could comment that at times Thomas Quasthoff surprised me by being not as loud as I thought he might be. However, the sensitivity he brought to interpreting the role was superb - highlight being the recitative in part two which describes the lion, the tiger, the stag, the steed etc. Jimmy decided not to read the text and, instead, just listen to the German, and he claims he spotted an elephant; I think that must have been the lion or the whale.

And the orchestra! The Freiburg Baroque under Rene Jacobs were incomparable. So many nuances. Initially, with my expectations set so high, I was disappointed that they failed to meet my demands for contrast in the bit that goes "And God said Let there be Light and There was"..."Li-i-i-i-i-i-ght" where I want pianissimo to become cacophony. I also want the concert hall to be in darkness until this point and then for all the lights to flood on. Still, the invisible hairs on my arm did stand up at this point,which was otherwise a low point. The choir - RIAS - was excellent, helped no doubt by their placement which had sops and basses to my left and altos and tenors to my right. They came close to polyphony or a Wall of Sound that reverberated effectively round the Barbican.

It is wonderful seeing Thomas Quasthoff. He comes on stage, and I register that he looks like a freak. Then the music begins, and he sings, and he is just an amazing singer. I would be a bigger fan if his repertoire coincided more with my taste - he does a lot of Bach and a he does a lot of Lieder, both of which are filed more under 'respect' than 'love'. But he's got a partial residency at the Barbican  between now and October, and I seriously urge anyone who can to hear him. He is never going to feature on Barihunks but he is a very great singer...if I can select one moment, he is the man who puts meaning into the phrase 'der leichte, flockige Schnee'.

I psent most of the evening with a smile of delight on my face and I really don't think I was alone. Needless to say, the audience was very very annoying in the intolerable anti-social stuff they did. Some people had the temerity to cough discretely during the loud bits. There was a couple in front of me when, every time Thomas went from spinto tenor to basso profundo - as he does - in one phrase, exchanged glances of approval. And then, in Part 3, when Adam (Thomas) and Eve (Julia) were declaring their love for each each other, there were couples who crept nearer to each other, were touching, some even had arms casually across their lover's back. Really quite an unruly audience!

Overall it was a stunningly memorable performance. Naturally there were flaws, but I really do not wish to dwell, because no live performance is perfect, and yet, every single factor worked so well and gelled so excellently that it turned out to be better than the sum of its not inconsiderable parts. I was so glad I was there.

Earlier today I had been exchanging emails with Alison who expressed a desire to arrive on the Atheist Bus as a suitable balance to the message. Guess what I spotted on my Northern Line train!

Hallelujah

Best version ever... (of Handel's, that is)

An order of Monks who have taken a vow of silence...

Crossover Brits

The nominations and line-up was announced yesterday: Classical BRITs Nominations Press Release

The presence of Anna Netrebko and Bryn Terfel might actually be enough to tempt me there. However, last year, some friends bought some cheap tickets and then entered a competition in the Metro or Sub-standard or some such and both won much better tickets than they had bought, so I'm holding out for Freebies. and if I don't get them, I'll live. Although, it is tempting to have a listen to Bocelli without paying the ridiculous prices he usually charges.

The nominations are strange. Female and Woman are okay, although I am perplexed by why Kate Royal gets cited for a 2006 album of no consequence.

But the male category is strange. I adore Rolando Villazón so have no in principle issue about him being nominated - indeed I have one of his CDs playing right now. But it is eighteen months since he has performed in Britain, and, I think the only album he realised last year was his zarzuela aria album, which I doubt registered many sales in Britain. I wonder why Colin Davis has been nominated. I am a big Colin Davis fan, have been since childhood, but I wonder why he has been nominated this year as opposed to any other year. As for Alfie Boe, I really have no strong opinions on him. I had no desire to see Kismet last year, nor do I wish to see the Merry Widow this year. He has a small part in ROH's Elektra next season, which seems a sensible return to his roots. I understand that he has released a couple of albums that have sold well, but as far as I can tell (I don't actually own them) he doesn't bring any startling insights of interpretation to the material. I've seen him a few times on TV and he doesn't seem a natural TV performer, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights every time the camera focuses on him.

I can't really comment on the record of the year, two Janacek vs Bach, because I haven't heard any of the discs in question. I suspect the Makropulos Case might win as a way of honouring Charles Mackerrras.

As for the Lifetime Award...Except for his Requiem, what exactly has Andrew Lloyd-Webber ever done for classical music.

It's such a bizarre thing, because on the one hand, such as with the recording category they attempt to be serious, then they have a ridiculous play-off between the top ten selling 'classical' records of the year -basically pop records that slipped into the very wide, vague and inaccurate categorisation of 'classical' by the Official UK Chart Company, and then get Classics For Morons Listeners to vote, based upon tribalism, geography and factionalism. Obviously, Bryn and Anna, and indeed Nige, are serious musicians, but then throw in three pop singers, and what you have is neither fish nor fowl. I can't see Bryn singing O du, mein holder Abendstern; Tre sbirri, Una carrozza; and Ehi paggio!... L'onore Ladri, and I suspect Nige will go for the populist. Still, I think we can rely on Anna not to sing I Could Have Danced All Night, or a schmaltzed up Nirvana song in Portuguese. But I bet Both Bryn and Anna will be miked up, when they don't need it, not even in the Albert Hall.

100 albums you must listen to

It's a list

I've read through, and I would endorse some of the selections, and virulently reject others. Clearly, any such list will be personal. Some of the recommended recordings are so old I have to wonder about the quality of the sonics. Others strike me as being very old-fashioned choices eg for Messiah it seems ludicrous to recommend only a 'traditional' interpretation when there is such a difference between over-egged over-schmaltzy orchestration and the crisp excitement of period interpretations. Also, the subset called 'opera' entirely fails to consider DVD, a bit bizarre considering that very few operas at all (if any) were written as audio only, so to recommend an opera recording without pictures is a bit like recommending a bowdlerized novel.

Years ago, a then friend copied for me a list that the Telegraph had compiled of the 100 books one must read. For years it stayed on my kitchen wall, then I removed it, thinking 'I am not obliged to read any book merely because experts (or one expert, or one bored journalist) thinks it's a 'must read'. And, in any case, the list was very conservative and with rather narrow terms of reference. So I seized on this review of what appeared to be a Bluffer's Guide Pierre Bayard's How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read is an invaluable guide to subverting the reading classes. Setting aside that the review is written in appalling dense prose, it seems it isn't a Bluffer's Guide, anyway. Furthermore, I reflected, do I really want to be the sort of person who , at mythical dinner parties filled with erudite conversation about novels, rather than
a) staying quiet; or
b) saying I haven't read that book because:

• with so many books to read and such diverse tastes, it is a bit unthinking merely to follow the crowd
• I've probably read books that you haven't
• if you have read so many books you probably don't have a great deal else going on in you life

one attempts to sound knowledgeable about something one knows bugger all about - well, that's pathetic isn't. If I am so desperate to appear well-read, I am afraid the only way to appear so is to be well-read. And I question the value in 'appearing well-read', which is pretty shallow, when the goal ought to be 'to be well read'. Being well read would make one a more rounded and thoughtful person, with greater awareness of the pointlessness of pretending; it would bring some entertainment into one's life; and it would simply make one more knowledgeable.

However, I have found Penguin Classics's "100 Classic Books You Must Read Before You Die"

This kiss for the whole world

One of my all time favourite works. And by that I mean Top 5. It is definitely something that every self-respecting music lover should have at least one copy of in their record collection. I expect everybody has at least part of it in their collection, because the final movement -  or part of - tends to be in most compilations of "Best of what you can't live without" But contrary to what the typical Classic FM listener will believe, this actually has four movements. There is plenty enough written on the web, some of it by musicologists, so there is little point in boring with you all that.

I have three versions of this. As a hint I would say it's better to pick it on account on the bass soloist rather than any other voice type. For years and years my favourite version was the Herbert von Karajan version with the Berliner Philharmoniker, indeed this is the version that is recommended by experts as the definitive.

But just recently, a new version has overtaken this as my favourite. I got the CD because I had been to both performances where it was recorded in the Barbican and even though they rated as two of my favourite performances of 2006, I was, nevertheless, overwhelmed by the CD.  In addition to the fabulous singing - especially the bass (baritone, actually) soloist, I would highlight the timpani as being particularly special. I also like the way that the orchestra plays - an absence of legato, not quite staccato but with more or less every note precisely articulated - as opposed to the von Karajan version where there is, relatively speaking, quite a lot of eliding of notes, seeming, in comparison, to be quite slurry. And I love the way the Ladies of the LSC push right to the boundary, where to go beyond would be screechy...high risk strategy, immensely rewarding when brought off properly   

The final version I listen to is the first one I acquired, one that sits on a cassette I made after borrowing the vinyl LP from Nottingham library when I was a student. This was chosen for the tenor soloist, though this is not a work to be chosen for the tenor soloist! Sadly, for a number of years, this was the only Beethoven 9 in my collection, and due to the relative paucity of my collection, it is one that has been played so often it resides in my muscle memory.  It is just way too slow,way way too slow, and really, that now makes it very difficult to play and enjoy. The total playing time is 78 minutes with the fourth movement being 28:34 (with twenty years of cassette stretch bringing it to 33!)  Von Karajan and Haitink  bring  the 4th in at just over 24 minutes, with total times being 67 and 68.  Despite my reservations I am going to buy the CD.

I can't really describe music, and it would be such an insult even to try to describe this. Music transcends words. It would be trite to say - I like that bit, especially when it does that, and oh, that bit too, trying to take it apart and analyse it, when it is a grand piece conceived out of the vision of an extraordinary genius!

It's a cliché when people say - and to imagine that Beethoven was completely deaf when he wrote this. As if somehow that is remarkable. It is of utter sadness that he did not hear it being performed by full orchestra, even when he was conducting, but I don't suppose a deaf Beethoven was any different from a hearing Beethoven, or any other composer. They have the music in their head and they write it down from there.

Recanting my sneer at Classic FM types, I have to admit that despite the first three movements being better than just about any symphony by anybody, the fourth outdoes just about the whole of the rest of the corpus of Western music. A magnificent combination of extraordinary words set to mind-blowing music. Definitely one of those pieces that is far greater then the sum of its parts, even though the parts are, in themself, quite magnificent. I read a quote the other day that whilst Mozart believed himself to be God* whereas Beethoven was reaching out to God. Obviously, one's interpretation will depend on the extent of one's belief in a Higher Power. I feel that this is one of the very few pieces of music that encapsulate that spirit, and one of the most inspiring pieces of music, as it culminates in a celebration of Joy!

It is definitely a piece for pumping up the volume, pumping it some more for the Final choral movement, singing along as loud as one can, with scant regard for tunelessness, especially if one does tunelessness well. And then wallowing in the moments of repose. Cathartic and adrenaline-forming. Pure joy!

One can have a lot of fun on YouTube watching - and of course, listening to the numerous versions available there, by necessity only short excerpts. It's also nice to read the comments. such as "Where can I buy a CD or DVD of this?" ( to which the reply is, "Just about any record store in the world"). At first glance, it seems the comment of an ignoramus - but an ignoramus wanting to learn, which happens to be my favourite type of person. And someone else "Magical. From a guy who loves hip-hop, this is the greatest piece of music ever produced."

Ones worth pointing out - Bernstein's historic changing of Freude to Freiheit at that historicBerlin concert in the heady days of 1989.

And what a contrast with this clip under Furtwaengler from 21 April 1942. Think v. carefully about that date. Gallops along wonderfully whilst simultaneously making the blood chill.

So, if you've got an hour or so to spare, sit down and enjoy these videos, of Herbert von Karajan conducting the whole bang-shoot, with superb camera-work and editing, as well as great conducting of really great music, with soloists Gundula Janowitz, Christa Ludwig, Jess Thomas  and Walter Berry. Some of the comments make me well up - I suppose the music contribute as well -  as does the thought I suddenly had that it should have been Wunderlich singing the tenor part. Actually, I'm not really sure - was his voice of the right fach. I have to confess to being  a bit of a Karajan fan, I sort of grew up on him, never live, sadly. There are so many recordings where he gets it wrong, but so spectacularly wrong. And the soloists - isn't Walter Berry totally gorgeous. And Gundula Janowitz, too.  But I've just fallen in love with Walter Berry.

You won't get that hour of your life back, but trust me, you will not want it back!

I have to include this 1970 clip for sheer self-indulgence in the young tenor soloist who seems like he might have had a promising career ahead of him...!

Continues and again

And finally, there isn't a piece of music in existence that can't be played on a ukelele by a bloke in a South Park t-shirt

* not sure this is accurate, either in the precise phraseology nor in the attribution, but I understand it musically

Festival

I have these five cassettes. I taped them off my sister. And I think she taped them off someone's vinyl. Knocking on for twenty years ago. TDK cassettes. They have been played so very many often times, in all sorts of dodgy cassette players I have owned over the years. On the box is written "Festival of Light Classical Music" Tapes that have sustained me through every aspect of my adult life.

There is no way that I can be in the slightest bit objective or dispassionate about any of the music on these, because they probably represent seven and a half of the ten hours of music with which I am more familiar than any other. And familiarity is one of the main aspects of liking music. Music that brings back memories, yet conversely, because of its ubiquity in my life, brings no specific memories and thus speaks for itself.

I thought about listing every track but how dull would that be, so I thought I would just pick out a handful of my real favourites. But then I realised that that would be at least half of the tracks. So I shall try some more general thoughts.

One of my Guilty Pleasures is Compilation Albums. I realise that these days, with the ability to burn CDs and download MP3s and all that I don't really need to buy Compilation Albums, but it's a form of retail therapy. They're also good when you don't really know what you want to listen to.

The best compilation albums feature music that has stood the test of time. Not just music that is popular because it has been used in adverts.

I always have trouble with popularity. Just because something - a piece of music - is popular doesn't mean it's good. I would say this particularly applies to something that is 'best selling' at a specific time. Conversely popularity doesn't mean it's bad. Indeed, there is an argument that a piece of music that is acclaimed by the critics, and loved by professionals and public alike over a significant time period is, by definition, good.

But then, you are left with the Bleeding Chunks Syndrome. As I write, Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries has just finished. A piece known, I think, by most people with ears, even if they don't know they know it. But only a very few minutes, and not a typical few minutes, excerpted from a 16 hour work of genius. Is the Ride better than the Ring as a whole? Can that question ever be answered? But it is certainly more popular than any other piece of music that Wagner wrote. Yet one day I was playing this in Hall and someone actually came to my room and reprimanded me for my subtle anti-semitism. I was too cowed and too anxious to be 'right on' - and too ignorant - to argue the toss. I like the music. Live with it. She wasn't even on my corridor, just passing by.

I did a search on Amazon, CDDB etc for this compilation, and struck a series of blanks, so I'm not even sure whether I there is much point in blogging this. But it is such an incredibly important part of my acquiring musical knowledge. Because I had such a small collection at the time I taped these, they were played over and again and I absolutely absorbed the music into my marrow. I have recently acquired the means to digitise cassettes and I have done so with these (the bigger problem is track splitting; well, it's not difficult just tedious and time-consuming). If I took a logical approach I have just about every tune already in digital of one sort or another, but I am so fond of the compilation as well as (most) of its constituent parts.

It is an entirely intelligent compilation. I would say that every piece is well known, but actually, that's because they are my musical life's blood. For example, a few weeks ago, I was watching Weber's Frieschutz, a completely unfamiliar opera to me....and yet, I knew the overture and one of the main themes as a result of this compilation. So it wasn't difficult for Frieschutz to become immediately "I like" and, more importantly "I want to get to know better".

And in total indulgence, a whole side of a cassette is devoted to just two pieces of music - Swan Lake and Nutcracker. I mean, let's face it,they are f***ing ace pieces of music and a nice way to round off 7½ hours of glorious music.

Missa Solemnis

As part of my ongoing 'all the records by forty' project I listened to Beethoven's Missa Solemnis a few times with the intention of blogging it thoughtfully.

It is acknowledged as a great work, and like all the rest of Beethoven (that I know), I like it. I realised that I have very little intelligent to say about it. I thought that perhaps that absence of intelligent comment was merely indicative of a lack of understanding. Beethoven didn't write the work as Light Entertainment, and if I were to approach it as such, it would be a waste of my time and yours. Hence the reason why I listened a few times.

I don't need any explanation of the story and the meaning. Despite my ungodliness i am very familiar with the rites and structure of the mass, musically I find masses to be a particularly worthwhile musical form. I considered whether my understanding would benefit from listening with the score and decided that it probably would, but, to be honest, I can't be bothered. I am not intending to perform it any time in the near future, and I don't think it was intended that the listener should need a score to comprehend.

I am torn, because in a way everything you need to know about a piece of music should be discernible by listening. Active listening, that is. For listening reasons, anyway. Clearly if you are going to perform it, you need more. And yet, I also know that one can benefit from the insights of others. But at the end of the day, I listen to music for pleasure, not to earn a living. I am not interested in studying music as an academic discipline and I have neither the ability nor the inclination to perform outside my shower.

I like the Sanctus very much, especially the writing for strings. Why do I like it? It has a gorgeous tune. And I like the fugal-ish arrangement. And it builds to a splendid climax for 'Hallelujah'. Every Hallelujah should be climax-like. I have to admit, I am a very shallow person. The rest of the tunes do not move me sufficiently. Definitely a CD to play on occasion but not necessarily over and again.

Beethoven's 6th

 This is a wonderful CD. In fact, I used to have it on cassette and when that conked out, I had to buy the exact same production on CD. That was because of the other two pieces, the Fantasia for piano, orchestra and chorus, previously blogged (but this version is just so much more passionate crisply delivered) and, also the Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage, which I think liked more then than now! And also because I have a minor DG Yellow fetish.

But the CD exists mainly for the Sixth, the rest is filler.

I have been looking over my early efforts at blogging my entire record collection, and I didn't actually go into great detail beyond "I like". Which is perhaps no bad thing. I really like Beethoven's 6th - Pastoral - Symphony, but not as much as I like 5 and 9. 5 and 9 are the pinnacle of his genius, 6 is merely a manifestation! God, that sounds pretentious. For me it is so much better than most of the symphonies in my collection, and yet, for me, it falls short of his two best.

There is an excerpt that is often included on compilation CDs and, indeed in Fantasia - indisputably the greatest animated film of all time - which makes it very familiar to anybody with even a passing interest in music - and probably the reason why this symphony is no.8 in this year's Classic FM Hall of Fame (if you don't believe me, note that the Pearl Fishers is no. 1 opera...even though, like, nobody has ever seen the Pearl Fishers...). Some compilation CDs even include just that bit and call it "Beethoven's 6th Symphony", giving the impression that the compilers don't have a 'king clue that symphonies generally consist of approximately four complete movements.

Robert King jailed

Child sex abuse conductor jailed and Conductor jailed for abusing boys - the latter mentions that

(Judge Hezlett Colgan said) while he would have to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life, the "radical change" in King's life since the offences - marriage and parenthood - meant he did not feel it necessary to ban him from working with children in the future.

which strikes me as perverse. I can see an argument for not banning someone who committed offences only as a youngster themselves, or (logically, not morally) if the offences were only committed away from any sort of work environment.

There have been quite a few comments on the various opera newsgroups. I know the story has been around since last summer, but to be honest, I didn't think it would lead to a conviction - partly because sexual assault cases tend to have a very low conviction rate anyway, and this is a case going back several years, (although generally assaults on boys are seen as exponentially worse than assaults on girls), and because it is not unusual for false accusations to be made against prominent people.

So it feels rather unpleasant to me. I have a number of Kings Consort CDs and have attended a number of their concerts; I am lavish with praise. But I don't know whether I could ever listen to those CDs again with quite the same. The TKC website says nothing - as yet - but does carry a long list of CDs that seem very desirable. Or do they? I don't know.

And the Torygraph have managed to surpass themselves in asinine offensive stupidity

I really do wish justice had not been done...for me...his golden recordings have put him beyond reproach.

He was also about the only person in Classical Music who, when he opened his mouth, could actually be funny. He was the supreme raconteur and always had the audiences in the palm of his hand.

Mind you, that's what these types actually believe - being a Good Chap who plays the Game makes one above the masses for whom hanging and birching is too good, what oh. Gosh, perhaps there were, you know, common people on the jury. Wouldn't have been allowed in my day.

Beethoven

The other reason for stalling in my "all the records by 40" project was Bach. I honestly don't know what to say about Bach. I don't be the sort of moron who calls Bach "sewing-machine music". Not least because I like Bach, but I don't know how. SO I'm going to pass by Bach for the time being, confident that by the time I reach 40 I shall be far more mature and be able to express how I feel about him.

I have moved onto Beethoven in my systematic playing but forgot to blog most of it, so we shall return to the bulk of my Beethoven collection, too. However, I am currently playing the Choral Fantasy in C minor Op 80 for piano, chorus and orchestra, which is just one of the most amazing piece of musics ever written. I often say that Beethoven is one of my favourite composers, but, symphonies apart, I don't actually have very much by him.

What I like about this particular piece is that it encapsulates the quintessential Beethoven, for me. See again the title - fantasy for piano, chorus and orchestra. So we start with a grand virtuoso piano first movement, which, as well as being pleasant in itself, also signals that it is building up to something. the second movement is a conversation between piano and orchestra. Beautifully lyrical and worthwhile in itself, simultaneously telling us that there is more to come.. The movement closes with a significant temp change - from Adagio to Marcia, assai vivace - and always there is underlying sense of moving forward. The third movement with solo voices singing with piano and background orchestra, building up into full choir, orchestra and piano, a real goose-pimple moment. And for ever building up to a manic finale.

When there simply isn't enough time for Beethoven's 9th Symphony, the Choral Fantasy serves as worthy alternative in quarter of the time! It's not the sort of piece that gets pushed by ClassicLite FM, nor included on compilation albums, but in my opinion, no record collection should be without it. I have never heard it live, I wonder if the need for six soloists for a four minute movement militates against live performances.

The triple concerto on the same disc is pleasant, too, although never likely to be a contender in my hypothetical Greatest Pieces listing.

The Joyce Hatto Fraud

Fascinating

Piano ‘genius’ is branded a fake

Masterpieces Or Fakes? The Joyce Hatto Scandal

Some help and understanding needed

Joyce Hatto: compelling evidence of an elaborate musical hoax

Reviews and stuff

It was hardly worth going Rupert Christiansen going to Theodora

At the Barbican, Emmanuelle Haïm conducted Le Concert d'Astrée in a grave and slow reading of Handel's Theodora that unwittingly seemed to emphasise its lugubrious sanctimoniousness. The soloists' singing was uniformly good – even if Anne Sofie von Otter's Irene couldn't eclipse memories of the late Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's interpretation – yet only in the stunning choruses did the drama come to life as it did in the celebrated Glyndebourne production.

At least I can believe that the Guardian was actually there. More thoughtful and detailed review at MV Daily

A is for Amadeus, B is for Beethoven. Presumably C-Z are yet to come. Can this adolescent-drive-by biographing with deliberately provocative statements rise to Zemlinsky or Zandonai? Or will the Grauniad's characteristic ADD peter out at Korngold...Is it me ageing or is the Guardian becoming increasingly juvenile?

Review of Soile Isokoski's CD and links to a free download (probably only valid today).

Preview of Magdalena Kozená tonight at the Barbican. An all Mozart programme looks enticing; bizarrely, there are still alot of tickets left, from £9 - £35. I can't make it.

Haydn's Creation

A seriously gorgeous and special piece of music. I was trembling in anticipation this morning as i stepped into the shower. I fairly recently came to the conclusion that it is amongst my top five pieces of music ever.

So tonight, Barbican, mounting anticipation. I tried to order an interval drink but barstaff told me - no interval, and you know, I was pleased - nothing to interrupt the experience.

Names in the frame, as per the website:

Gabrieli Consort & Players
Chethams Chamber Choir
Paul McCreesh conductor
Sandrine Piau soprano
Mark Padmore tenor
Neal Davies bass

I opened my programme and learned that Part 3 would star Miah Persson and Peter Harvey. So, separate singers for Adam and Eve. In the general milling beforehand I saw a man who was an absolute doppelganger of René Jacobs. I thought, either that is René Jacobs or there's a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to him who has a liking for period instrument music....

What a splendid evening. Such beautiful music! Story taken from Genesis Chapter 1 - you know the 7 days*, plus poems from John Milton's Paradise Lost. Three parts: first creating the world, and the land and the sea; second, creating the creatures and man and woman. Third part Adam and Eve blissful in the Garden of Eden before The Fall.

It was a large orchestra - perhaps the largest period instrument orchestra I have witnessed, except for Rattle's Das Rheingold, of course, and a sizeable choir. Massed ranks probably equivalent in size to the LSO for Beethoven 9. A lot of doubling, two sets of timps, two quite separate wind sections and so on. Sadly, no theorbo: there was a theorbo last night, none at La bohème (quel surprise...!), one at Theodora last week, and one at the last Prom I went to, so I was getting into thinking theorbos were standard orchestral instruments...

The orchestra sounded absolutely fantastic. A wonderful tone, and brilliantly conducted, I thought, by Paul McCreesh. It proceeded at a spanking pace and was full blooded, but without the sentimental over-egging of lush strings in the style of Karajan. Sadly, there was a horn flub very near the beginning and I thought, with dread, it's going to be a period horn night. But thankfully, it wasn't. It's hard to single out which bit of the orchestra sounded best. To me they all sounded marvellous. I particularly liked the tympani, which was loud and passionate, I liked the flute evoking the dove and I loved the bassoons evoking the heavy tread of animals. There was a lovely horn passage, and the trumpets were bright and ringing. The strings were bright and acute and sharp (but not in pitch...!)

However, despite the superlatives, there is a catch to that. It's an oratorio, not an orchestral piece. And whether it was the orchestra being too loud, or the soloists not being loud enough, I don't know. It definitely wasn't just me, or my seating position, because two other people made a similar comment before I even asked them.

I was disappointed in Sandrine Piau. I have never heard her live, nor fully on disc, just excerpts, and I'd heard rave things about her. I didn't like her. She squalled the top notes, most excruciatingly in an embellishment in one da capo aria. Not loud enough, except when squalling. I found her rather boring. If my mind wondered at all it was during her arias.

Neil Davies was pleasant, but again not over-loud. A rather generic voice, but delivered his pieces with finesse and precision. Often with feelings. Mark Padmore was definitely the star of the first two parts. I think he has a lovely voice (very English tenor, not the sort of tenor that generally gets much kudos on mmofm), good technique, commitment, passion, and a degree of stage presence, yet, frustratingly he seems to be less than the sum of his parts. And he's certainly no Fritz Wunderlich (but who is...?). Coming out of Wigmore last night, someone said apropos his photo on display in the foyer "Doesn't Mark Padmore look like Tony Blair?" I thought on that particular photo he did seem to bear a passing - but only slight - resemblance, but seeing him tonight with this in mind, I had to agree. But not Sexy Tony so much as Tired Beleaguered Tony.

Peter Harvey was pleasant as Adam, and I could find no fault although I find it hard to pick out the highlights of his performance.

But the singing star was undoubtedly Miah Persson. She looked every bit the star in a turquoise** evening gown, sleeveless and strapless, with a delicate decoration, flowers maybe on the skirt, and as soon as she opened her mouth I fell in love. If Creation is one of my all time favourite works, then the Part 3 Scene 2 Duet and Chorus must count as one of my favourite numbers (By thee with bliss, O bounteous Lord, the heaven an earth are fill'd....The Heav'n and Earth Thy Power Proclaim; we praise thee now and evermore) Miah's singing brought tears to my eyes it was so beautiful. I think I have fallen ever so slightly in love, in a diva-worshipping sort of way. It's not only that she has such a beautiful, clear and musical voice, but she has a dignified stage presence. I don't know how she old she is; she only made her international debut three years ago, but she really is going to be a big star.

Paul McCreesh explained in the programme notes how he had re-translated the words from the rather clunky translation we know so well. One of the things was to be more true to the German and fit in better with the music, and also to correct some errors of very poor English. This was most apparent in The Heavens Are Telling where I am familiar with "The wonder of his work displays the firmament" which Paul altered to "The firmament displays the wonder of his works" which of course makes more sense, and, actually fits the music better, with 'wonder of his works' being the oft-repeated phrase, rather than 'displays the firmament'. But it really jarred for the first half of the chorus, until it hit me. And now I suspect I shall never be able to enjoy properly a performance or recording that uses the old original mistranslation...

Overall, a splendid evening, because, despite shortcomings from the some of the singers, it really was a Great Performance of a truly Great Piece of Music! And it's been a splendid October to end my near-hiatus. October ends on Tuesday with the minor matter of Rolando Villazón and Anna Netrebko. I've been told they will be doing a signing session; I shall be going armed with money. There's a reason...

Update: MusicOMH review

This was not the greatest Creation that London has seen, but when the choir opened their mouths and the orchestra surged in a great forte swell, it seemed to be not far off. The CD looks to be a necessity.

* it's not literally true, you know, but in this setting works as a beautiful allegory

** I say turquoise; It was more this sort of colour*** - which doesn't seem to show up well, but I've approximated it as an RGB of 4 54 60 (customise colours in Paint)

*** I suspect I might get linked from the Miah Persson fan bulletin board

Carolyn Sampson at Wigmore Hall

Or rather:

Carolyn Sampson (soprano)
Stephanie-Marie Degand (violin)
Alexandra Bellamy (oboe)
Jonathan Cohen (cello)
Lynda Sayce (theorbo)
Robert King (harpsichord, organ)

under the title of The King's Consort.

There we were sitting in the foyer of the hall when a couple arrived pushing a pram. Strange, I thought. I know that bloke from somewhere. "That bloke" was chatting to someone selling CDs and introduced Johannes, and said he had lain through all the rehearsal, and I suddenly realised that 'that bloke' was Robert King. Handy to be able to parade one's 'normality' when a court case is hanging over one. I do so like Robert as a conductor, or, as he was this evening, director from keyboard.

The programme is in the extended entry. All the 'titled' pieces are one or other of Handel's Nine German Arias, to texts by Barthold Heinrich Brockes. Rather nice texts, concerned with seeing the glory of God in nature. These were interspersed with three oboe sonatas, two of which had movements that seemed familiar...I suspect that I have or had recordings of them performed on recorder or flute.

Other than Messiah, Handel's music doesn't have a great emotional impact on me, but it is always delightful, and I keep going back for more. Carolyn's voice was as lovely as ever, fresh, sweet and engaging, and soaring, and with excellent phrasing and interpretation. I just adore her voice. There is due to be a CD of these works. It will certainly go on my wishlist but I'm not sure that the pieces grabbed me enough to make it a 'must buy on the day of release' piece.

I love the sound of a period oboe and enjoyed the playing of Alexandra Bellamy, especially in the coloratura bits...I expect I don't really mean 'coloratura' but it's a more impressive word than 'twiddly' and more succinct than saying passages of rapidly executed semi-quavers and demi-semi quavers.

Overall, a very pleasant evening. Not Handel's greatest works, but nevertheless, in accordance with that winning formula, and performed very well. We agreed that the highlight of the evening was a heartfelt and moving Lascia ch'io pianga, from Rinaldo (and from Harrods TV ads...).

Update Simon's review in MusicOMH

Sunday night concert of English music

Sharp-eyed readers might be a surprised that I have taken so long to write this up. I went to a concert last week at the Barbican. To be honest, I'm not really sure what to write about it. I arrived about three hours early but that was because I was meeting up with Faye, who was in the area but, probably wisely, didn't fancy the concert. It was a glorious hot day and we sat by the lake, although by then it had clouded over in the late afternoon. I had inadvertently caught the sun on Saturday in the back garden; I caught more on Sunday although I didn't realise until I got home exactly how red my face was. (Although it had cleared up by Monday morning.)

When we sat back the lake knocking back our drinks Faye happened to glance around and said, "There he is..."

"Who?" I asked.

"Gerald Finley," she said.

Our star for the evening was just strolling into the Lakeside Terrace. Well, I say 'our' star. My star. Faye didn't go to the concert.

And in the first half I was rather thinking I wish I hadn't. It started with Vaughan Williams Wasps Overture. I had this surreal thought that it would be much improved if they unleashed a swarm of wasps in the auditorium. Of course I immediately realised that that would be wrong on so many levels. But it was pretty dire.

Then was Elgar's Cello Concerto. There was nothing wrong with it and it is a lovely piece of music. But it has to be played really well to make it worth my while. And it was just an adequate performance.

I had only booked the concert for Vaughan Williams' Sea Symphony. No, not even that is true. I have the Sea Symphony on CD and whilst it's okay, it's never really grabbed me. So I have to be honest and say that the only reason I booked the concert was for Gerald Finley.

Well, the Sea Symphony was marvellous. London Symphony Orchestra were singing; London Symphony Chorus were zinging. Susan Gritton was splendid in what someone pointed out to me is a punishing soprano role. And Gerald Finley was everything I hoped he would be, and much much more. He makes it all seem so easy, and yet it is always such a striking reading. And I so love his voice. I really believe he is incapable of singing a wrong note or making an ugly sound.

Live, it really is a great piece of music. From where I was, practically on the floor of the Barbican, I felt surrounded by the sound of the orchestra, and the ever-wonderful LSO Chorus. And, you know, it was so evocative of the sea. But, still, I didn't feel any great urge to play the CD when I got home and I haven't done so in the intervening five days. Perhaps some pieces are just not suited to live performances.

Afterwards, the fairy godfather of SOSSLED smuggled me backstage. Without my partner-in-stalking, I felt a bit self-conscious and was a bit scared at the thought of hanging around looking like a lemon. I easily found Gerald's dressing room - which is more than can be said for him, so I showed him to it. I explained that I had been smuggled backstage and didn't want to hang around like a fan girl, because I'm not a fan girl. I thanked him for the performance and said that I didn't know the piece very well, but I enjoyed it and he sounded great. I didn't want to detain him, because he was en route to his dressing room, even though I would really love to spend some time in his company, over a drink or whatever. I said I'd see him at Figaro. Twice.

The Times carries a review

Choral at the Cathedral

It is a matter of deep regret that the Royal Festival Hall is closed for business for another year.

Hmm, thinks carefully...no regrets that I voted in favour of the planning permission for the total refurb!

So when a big choral work is planned, the Philharmonia decamps down to the grotesque Gothic Westminster Cathedral. Last Wednesday they did so with the Bach Choir, under David Hill, and soloists Carolyn Sampson, Anna Burford and Grant Doyle. The programme was not a 'must-see' for me, but I wouldn't miss Carolyn Sampson without good reason. And the Philharmonia and Bach are reliable forces.

The programme started with Wagner's Good Friday Music from Parsifal; and the body of the concert was Szymanowski's Stabat Mater and Brahms' German Requiem.

It struck me as being a bit mistimed, actually. It would have been excellent for Good Friday, not for the Wednesday between Ascension and Pentecost.

I was in an excellent seat, second row from the front. I acted irrationally and questioned why. When I arrived, the woman in the seat next to mine had her crutch propped on my seat, and I indicated politely that it was my seat, so she moved her crutch, and without any sense I suggested that she might prefer the aisle seat. After I sat third seat in, I wondered what on earth possessed me to do something so pointless. But then the soloists came out and I realised that I was sitting directly opposite Carolyn Sampson, with no one in front of me.

There was an empty seat next to me, on which I laid my programme. I realised that the man to the left of that seat was craning his neck to get a free read, so I nonchalantly gathered up my programme and held it so that he could only see the advert on the back. Upside down. Out of my extreme peripheral vision I could see him hurriedly looking away at being caught. Never underestimate my peripheral vision: it compensates for my spacial unawareness! He proceeded to spend the rest of the concert nervously sniffing.

Simon was also present and got bad acoustics and bad neighbours.

My acoustics were fine - very much enveloped-by-the-orchestra which I have found happens at many venues. Even so, I will express the caveat that my judgement may be affected by the generally appalling acoustics of the place.

The Wagner was the most insipid Wagner I have ever heard and I could only regard it as a necessary opener to allow the Latecomers (from the long toilet queue) to take their rightful seats. I hope that Wagner, especially something like Parsifal will sound grand, almost pompous. I was out of luck.

Then the Szymanowski. I have never heard it before, but I definitely want to hear it again. I really liked it. I'm writing this review five days later so I can't remember why i liked it was big, raucous and thrilling. I think it was probably quite a difficult sing for the soloists; at times I noticed that both Anna Burford and Grant Doyle were having a few strains at the extremes of the range (him at the top, her at the bottom) and at one point I caught an characteristically breathy sound in Carolyn Sampson's usually crystal clear top. But please don't let those quibbles detract from an overall good performance. I haven't heard Anna Burford before but would hear her again. Interesting voice - a wonderful rich and dark sound near the bottom that made me think she was a contralto, but then she didn't really get those really low notes, so she can't be. So, I suppose a dramatic mezzo with a curtailed range. Perhaps, what do I know. But definitely a voice that's pleasant to listen to. Grant Doyle had a pleasant sounded voice and put plenty of expression into what he was singing, although I sensed that there was not a great amount of natural colour in the voice. Still, he's young.

And Carolyn was gorgeous throughout.

After the interval was the Brahms German Requiem, which is mainly a choral piece with occasional passages for the soprano and baritone soloist. I don't possess a CD of it, but I do have various extracts on various compilation CDs. And although I enjoyed hearing it live, I can't say I'm in a hurry to rush out and buy a CD. It seemed to go on for an eternity. And although I enjoyed the performance of orchestra and chorus, I do feel I have been spoilt of late by the LSO/LSC.

Classical Brits, the show

I won't go through the running order in tedious detail, and to some extent I am not sure I really have a great deal to say about the actual musical performances. There's plenty of other reporting already online, and I'm inclined to agree with comments about the poor quality sound system and the rather anaemic sound of the otherwise excellent English Chamber Orchestra. I don't particularly want to hear my favourite opera singers through dodgy amplication, when they are perfectly capable of filling the Albert Hall with a glorious unamplified sound. Just because Barbie and the thankfully absent Bocelli need amplification doesn't mean that real singers do.

The reason for me getting the ticket was to see my lovely Plácido and I shall devote a whole separate entry to him...which might not be this evening, because I have a hot date tonight with the real love of my life*.

However, there were some other highlights. I have adored Kiri te Kanawa's voice for almost as long as I have been crazy about Pláci, and she features in a couple of my favourite DVDs, supporting the tenor, of course. But I have never previously heard her live and I doubt I will again. I can't I say I cared much for the In Paradisium, but when she sang O mio babbino caro, I just loved it. I had hoped, but, to be honest, not expected, to be able to greet her at the Stage Door.

I was not sure to expect of Vittorio Grigolo. I had been very sceptical of this Italian tenor who hit the top of the album charts with a pop album. "The new Bocelli" I had assumed disparagingly. But a look at his CV showed that he has played some serious roles in serious operas in serious opera houses. He sang one song and one aria that I love: Maria, and Una furtiva lagrima. Not the best choice with which to impress me, considering the company he was keeping. I can't get enough of Plácido singing Maria, and whisper it quietly the very best version in my entire collection of tenors singing Una furtiva is Rolando. But you know, even with the odds so stacked against him, he most definitely won my approval. The women either side of me were, like me, present to hear Plácido and were delighted at Rolando's presence as an added bonus. After Vittorio had finished we turned to each other and excitedly agreed "He's the real thing!"

I was well impressed by Alison Balsom on the trumpet, especially in the Rachmaninov Vocalise. I do believe she was the only non-singing soloist, which scuse my cynicism, hardly makes this the full deal in regard to classical music.

I couldn't really disagree with any of the awards given (well, with one exception...). Congratulations to all the winners. It was great seeing various celebrities trooping on. Tom Conti earned a big coo and gasp, certainly in my part of the hall. I hissed when David Mellor was announced - well, it was election day - but I actually cheered him when he expressed his opinion that Tony Pappano is the best thing to happen to Royal Opera House in a long time. In case you hadn't realised I am a great admirer of the lovely Tony.

One of the award presenters was Katherine Kent. I do not believe that most people around me had the slightest idea who she was, but me as an avid Royal Watcher knew she is the former Duchess of Kent. I have to admire her as someone who, post divorce, hasn't gone insisting on retaining her royal-title-by-marriage and I know from my reading of the music press does a great deal of work for charity that doesn't scrape the radar of the mainstream media. So three cheers for Katherine Kent!

I was singularly unimpressed by Katherine Jenkins winning the album of the year for Living a Nightmare. I had voted for Bryn (under orders) although I was secretly hoping Nicola Benedetti would win. If you happen to watch it on the TV and hear a woman screaming when Bryn's nomination was announced, that wasn't me...but I know who it was! Myself and my immediate neighbours were not impressed by her constant prancing and preening in the arena, and the way she made sure she got her make-up touched up by some flunkey, even though it was a complete surprise she had won...yeah, right she would have turned up, in an obscene £375,000 chav dress if she wasn't going to get the limelight. As she concluded her speech, thanking the cat and whatever, I found myself sticking my fingers in my mouth in a vomiting simulation, which isn't habitual with me and yet was entirely involuntary.

Unfortunately, although my box and the one immediately to my right had Pláci fans at the front, behind us were Katherine Jenkins fans who chattered away intermittently, especially during the quiet bits, and horror of horrors, during the introduction to Rolando's aria.

But thankfully, she didn't attempt to sing. That would have been a nightmare too far.

But, Plácido aside, the major highlight of the evening for me was Rolando Villazón. Believe you me, if I hadn't already got a ticket because of Plácido, I would most certainly have done so for him. To hear him sing Recondita Armonia from Tosca was a thrill and a treat; and he looked great against a spectacular backdrop of a hundred candles (the standard candelabra looked dangerously precarious but thankfully didn't fall over). I owuld have loved him to have sung Com'e gentil from Don Pasquale; Faye would have liked Kuda...Kuda (she asked him whether he would be singing it at Faenol; he said probably not).

UK residents, and perhaps also some of Western Europe will be able to see the highlights on ITV1 at 4.45pm tomorrow and repeated a week on Sunday in the late evening. No doubt they'll cut all the bits I have highlighted here and devote half an hour to Barbie's dress...!

Photos - I haven't completed editing my photos yet, so it's definitely work-in-progress...!

* Just in case anybody has any doubts, the most wonderful way of passing the time is going for a meal to a good restaurant with Jimmy, the only man for me.

Classical Brits, post 1

No celebrity spotting night out can work without careful planning. We were so worried about what to wear, and the weather bowled a googlie by being considerably hotter than it has been thus far. But fortunately, despite changing my mind about four times, I did finally leave the house with clothes on.

We had agreed to meet at the Stage Door between half five and six; at half five Faye rang me to tell me that Barbie was already stepping out of her Rolls Royce - presumably Living the Dream. I was literally moments away from the Albert Hall by then. Faye informed me "He's inside already..." "Who?" I asked. "Plácido," she replied. At which point I got very nervous. Regular readers of this blog will know that Plácido means a lot to me, and yet, everything I know about him is that he is such a nice man and so non-intimidating that I have absolutely no reason to be nervous!

We stood outside the Stage Door and Karl Jenkins emerged. I have twice stood next to Karl, once when going into the Barbican Concert Hall and once when arriving at Siegfried, but in both those circumstances I felt shy at saying hello. However, this is Karl Jenkins who wrote the Armed Man: A Mass for Peace, a piece of work that I completely adore. And I also like his work with Adiemus. So I went up to him and said I keep bumping into him, so I just wanted to say hello formally. He shook my hand and said "I remember", which I thought was very gracious because I don't imagine for a moment that he does, and he shook my hand.

Then Warbling Barbie emerged in the most ghastly dress. It was a bright fuchsia colour, which is 'my colour', but I have dark hair; she has blonde and it's not her colour. God knows how she kept it on; she was falling out of it, and, as was very apparent later on, she was not wearing any underwear with it at all. I'm sure you saw the pictures in the paper. I wasn't especially pleased to see her, but Faye reassured me that she wouldn't be singing, which was a relief! She really was playing the big "I am Big star" as she got back into her ostentatious Rolls Royce. Yawn...

Then Faye said "Here he is." "Who?" I asked. "Plácido," she said. At which point, I started trembling. It was a good thing I already had my camera primed and ready for action, otherwise...I managed to get a couple of photos of him, and I realised just a split second too late that Rolando Villazón had also emerged from the Stage Door. I did manage to get half a photo of him...!

I remember Plácido looking at me. Seeing me. I have to tell you that he is somebody who, on the whole, photographs spectacularly badly. The fact that he's good looking often, but not always, comes over in photos, but they rarely capture just how handsome he is. But more than handsome. He has a very expressive face, the most gorgeous eyes, and on top of all that he oozes charisma and magnetism. And furthermore, unlike the inconsequential and talent-free Katherine Jenkins, he really does not play the superstar the big I Am, which if anyone is entitled to, he is.

I wish I could summon up the speed of mind to come up with something devastatingly intelligent to say in that twenty second window of opportunity but I was just so awestruck I couldn't. And then I was so trembly I was incapable of lighting a cigarette, which, anyone who has ever spent more than about two minutes in my company will know is somewhat noteworthy in itself!

Photos