Gertsamtkunstwerk

Gotterdammerung Prom

It is extremely difficult to provide a review of one of the Ring Operas. So much going on, so many different elements. They cannot really be viewed in isolation, and, Gotterdammerung, the culmination of the greatest epic work in Western culture, cannot be assessed without some reference to Das Rheingold, Die Walküre and Siegfried.

The culmination of the Proms' Ring Cycle occurred in glorious splendour on Sunday. Undoubtedly a memorable occasion and a stirring performance, greater than the sum of its parts, and the parts were nothing to be sniffed at.

There are pros and cons of the Albert Hall. The sometimes almost unbearable heat;, and, especially for a Wagnerian epic, physical comforts become of some importance. The Albert Hall being circular, with audience arranged almost totally round the circle - barring the organ - means that there are plenty of partial view seats. I was in one, in a second tier box, where I had a glorious view of the timpani and percussion, and, with my superdouper binoculars could almost read the conductors' score, but my view of the lower strings and any singers who stood in front of them was somewhat limited.

Any concert performance of an opera is going to lack a basic element - the acting, together with costumes, set, lighting and so on. Not that there isn't merit in concert opera. I am a firm advocate of opera as a visual form, arguing that people who are wedded to opera on radio/CD/LP/shellac/cylinders are missing the point that audio-only presentations were a technology-driven accident (or lack-of-technology driven) that impacted on opera, not an opera-driven imperative. So most people who decry the burgeoning of opera on DVD as opposed to the 'superior' audio-only (preferably on scratchy jumpy vinyl 33s or even better on 78s which need changing every three minutes) are merely revealing the unthinking ignorance of their own conditioning or habit rather than actually returning to first principles and asking a question*. That having been said, in the best concert performances of opera, with the best performers, the absence of costumes, sets, lighting etc enables a situation where they are forced to convey the drama and emotion through superb singing and expressive acting**. In respect of this Prom, the acting was absent. I was not sure really why a 'stage director' got credited. The singers barely had room to perch at the edge of the stage and stand-and-deliver.

Another disadvantage of concert opera is the absence of an orchestra pit. This actually has its advantages in that I can watch the timpani and percussion. Also that I can watch the clarinets and oboes and the wonderful clarinet-type-thing-with-a-horned-end-that-isn't-a-saxophone, and, using my binoculars, even watch the fingering. It does tend to give an added dimension to understanding the conversation between different instruments of the orchestra. On the flip side, it was not always possible to hear everything being sung. Possibly not just because it was a concert performance, not just because it was in a super-barn*** but because the acoustics vary so significantly and there is no rule book on the Albert Hall acoustics. On the other hand, there were glorious moments when a splendid reverberation of sound bounced around an impressive venue.

The conductor was Donald Runnicles, the orchestra the BBC Symphony. I presume that the BBCSO are not in the habit of performing any of the tetralogy and at times it showed. There again, in 4¾ hours of playing, it is hardly surprising that there was evidence of raggedness, roughness and duffness at times.

For me, the highlight of Gotterdammerung is the orchestra. Partly, the enjoyment of hearing all those familiar leitmotifs. I am the antithesis of a leitmotif expert, but as each of those familiar phrases emerges, it is impossible not to be reminded of what they have signified in the previous episodes. And, overwhelmingly, Gotterdammerung is about those two amazing pieces of orchestral interludes, Siegfried's Rhine Journey and Siegfried's Funeral March. Unbelievable pieces of music, worthy of inclusion in any concert programme in their own right, and made more amazing by context.

I do not think I have ever appreciated so much three particular pieces which I thought were very familiar to me - the duet between Brunnhilde and Siegfried in the Prelude which sounded so joyous and so full of carefree innocent young love. And then, the startling contrast in Act 3 of first Siegfried's Brünnhilde! Heilige Braut! Wach' auf! Öffne dein Auge! which is definitely on my list of favourite tenor arias, and this afternoon my eyes filled with tears at the enormity of the emotion, betrayal and consequences. Followed by Brunnhilde's Liebestod Immolation Scene. Absolutely extraordinary. The Ring turns full circle. We started with the fictional Rhinemaidens in the primaeval slime of the mythical River Rhine, and were shown the grandiosity of the Gods, the beautiful human tale of the gorgeous Walsüng Twins, the heart-breaking fissure between Wotan and Brunnhilde, the maturation of the Boring One and his awakening; after the machinations, politics, greed, capitalism, pride and other numerous human faults, we are left with noble dignity of Brunnhilde's love for Siegfried. Obviously, it is a vile misogynist plot, indicative of Wagner's self-centred arrogance, to expect Brunnhilde to leap into the funeral flames unable to endure life without Siegfried. In reality she would have the strength of character to grieve and mourn and start a new life. But as a moving end to an emotionally demanding saga, it is perfect.

Singing-wise, I would not ascribe greatness, but I would definitely give it a high overall mark, with no link so weak as to be negative. I was disappointed by the male chorus, perhaps having been totally spoilt by the glorious sound of the tremendous ROH male chorus. The male voice choir in this opera is almost as impressive as in Tannhäuser. I figure that if the male chorus blows my socks off on CD, I can't wait until I get an opportunity to hear Tannhäuser live (one of my lesser known Wagner operas, but one with amazing tunes. Oh heck, all the ones I know have amazing tunes - I don't know Die Feen, Das Liebesverbot, and Rienzi, and rate Meistersinger and Flying Dutchman below the somewhat below the other eight). I thought the Rhinemaidens sounded gorgeous in themselves, but lacked a certain sound that I sometimes find,a sound that seems to be way ahead of its time, is echoed in the Parsifal Flower Maidens but sounds more like an inter-bellum jazz nightclub sound).

The leading singers were all very worthy. Christine Brewer was amazing last year in Fidelio, previously I had found her less satisfying in Beethoven's 9th and the War Requiem. I found that her voice cut through rather than rode over the orchestra. She came into her own in Act 3 in particular. I have never rated her stage persona, but she did seem to inhabit this role and convey the shock and heartbreak. Stig Anderson was excellent as Siegfried. Never outstanding but constantly above average. Not particularly a beautiful voice but definitely one I would like to hear again in this role and would be interested to hear in the young Siegfried. (Beforehand, a friend had said "I hear the tenor's very good" and I had said "Is there a tenor in it?" I'm sure she must have thought I was trying unsuccessfully to crack a lame joke but the truth was my brain wasn't entirely working and I could only think of the orchestral passages).

As it reached its denouement the hall was lit with a fiery glow and I was half-expecting the pond in the arena to burst its banks and overflow; it didn't.

By quarter past ten it was over and I felt a sense of loss and bereavement, mitigated only by the knowledge that I have tickets booked for the Royal Opera House Ring Cycle 3 in October/November, about which I can only say "Bring it on...!"

* I regard the most important lesson I learnt in preparation for a Politics degree and a life in public administration and policy was one taught by my splendid A-Level Maths teacher - you don't need to know the proof for the exam, but we are going to work through this from First Principles so that you have a fundamental understanding

** see Die Walkure Prom 2005

*** remember, Real Opera Singers don't use microphones (except when the venue - or the 'crossover' programme - calls for it)

A trip to Rhineland

I went somewhere timeless yesterday. The banks of the Rhine. We saw Valhalla go up in flames. We were always conscious of Neibelheim being not far away.

It was the third day; the trip began three years ago with a Prologue on period instruments. The first day, two years ago was rather memorable. For me, the best live performance I have ever attended - and I have no expectations of ever attending any better (by my estimations, listening to the many recollections of everybody who claimed to be there, there were actually 20,000 people in the Albert Hall that night). I skived Day 2 last year. To endure 'The Boring One'* in the South Kensington Tin Hut when external temperatures were hitting 35 was more than this soul can endure.

The day didn't start well when I realised it was already 1.15pm. I had woken at 10.30, then Jimmy brought me a cup of tea. I must have drifted off to sleep twice. I thought the Prom started at three. I was already resigning myself to having to wait until the interval. Which is a bloody stupid attitude to take considering that it is two hours until the first interval. There are whole operas over in that time. I checked the BBC website to find out when the intervals occurred and was delighted to find that kick off was actually 4pm. And, in the end, I arrived with plenty of time to spare. I had eaten brunch but not prepared a packed lunch. Which is silly. At Covent Garden or the Colly, there are numerous cheap cheerful and fast places nearby ideal for Wagnerian long intervals. Not so the SKTH.

A whole day passes. It really is an extraordinary experience. Entering in the remnants of the heat of the day, picnicking in the early evening, emerging into the darkness of night. Time ceases to have any meaning. Meeting up with friends, some by pre-arrangement, some by chance. Meeting 'online' friends for the first time (hello Dominic!). Seeing acquaintances in the distance. Audit clients from the past, former political adversaries, faces that are familiar just from coincidences of attendance. For those that know who I mean, a certain Russian Soap Dodger was seen in a brown suit, not the quotidian navy.

At quarter past five I checked the time and thought, oh my god, it's still 45 minutes to go until I get a fag and a pee. I checked the time ten minutes later and it was two minutes to six! In Act II, I was thinking, this is just the beginning, I'm sure there's a longueur coming, then the music began to build to a climax, and I realised an hour had passed in the blinking of an eye. And Act III was over all too quickly.

On the whole, my neighbours were extremely well behaved. After the first interval, a couple took the empty seats in the box adjoining mine. I thought for a while they would be anti-social: she was obviously a Blackberry Addict, but she put it away once the music got going. To my right were a young couple. He was one of those who appears to be about 18 at first glance although closer scrutiny suggested he might have been a bit older. They were sipping wine, and seemed to have the bottles lined up in their box. When Siegfried's Funeral March began, he leaned over the parapet his arm out-stretched, wanting to conduct the orchestra. I can sympathise - it is utterly glorious music. And then, at the end, before the conductor had even lowered his baton, he was on his feet. His subsequent manner of applause suggested that he was well gone. Not actually obnoxious, just a bit obvious. Later I was in the loos and realised I was able to eavesdrop on a phone conversation in the next cubicle. It was a young woman calling her Dad to say the concert was over and she would be home in due course. She went onto say 'He's taken me out for a meal and bought me bottles of champagne. It's very nice but it's a bit...I'm not really that sort of person, I don't want everything to be a big deal, I'd be happy with a bag of chips..." When I emerged from the Ladies, I was not surprised to see the young drunk would-be back-seat conductor waiting outside!

* it's not really boring. Any opera that contains the Forging Scene, the Woodbird and that incredible Love Duet can't be boring, but relative to the other three it is, in my personal opinion, the least satisfying

Proms Preview

They texted me literally as my work PC was shutting down for the evening. and because I needed to pick up a few bits and bobs en route home, I was in a state of suspenders for an hour and a half. Rather pointlessly, I feel.

There is nothing I would kill to get tickets for. Two concerts stand out. With the weathermen forecasting the hottest summer in the history of heat, the temptation is just to pick a couple and skip the rest, especially ones that will be on TV.

The full list starts here - Week One, with two of my favourite pieces. The Elgar Cello and Beethoven 9. I've never heard Rene Pape live, so I might seize that opportunity. although I expect it will be televised.

Week 2 is probably the best week, with the Seasons, although the soloists are nothing special, and I skipped it at the Barbican. Macbeth is possibly my least favourite Verdi, and I barely know the cast at all, except that the key role of MacDuff is sung by a tenor I do not rate. I think I might do the late night Schubert Mass.

In week 4 I might attend the Brahms St anthony chorale and Elgar Enigma Variations, but not if they're on TV, and almost certainly Carolyn Sampson sings Bach.

In week 5, the highlight of the season is Gotterdammerung. I might treat myself to a box seat and damn the expense.

The Handel, Purcell, Telemann in Week 6 looks attractive, but I won't go if it will be on the TV. Beethoven's 9th gets cranked out again in Week 7, perhaps to compensate for last year's cancellation. In Week 8, James Levine conducts The Damnation of Faust. Jose van Dam is the star name; the tenor is Marcello Giordani who doesn't make many appearances in London. The proposed appeared of Levine rather scotches the rumours that he's not actually allowed in to Britain...The last night doesn't look exciting, except for an appearance by Anna Netrebko.

But if I am going to be conspicuous by my absence from the cauldron/greenhouse that is the Albert Hall Iowe it the blog to some serious reviews from sofa.

There's also some non-vocal music. And I suppose I'm supposed to say positive things about contemporary music, especially the new commissions and those fusing with World Music. But I'm not particularly interested. So I won't.

Proms in the Park

Next weekend, as well as Last Night of the Proms, is also Proms in the Park.

I thought that the purpose of LNotP is a bit of an end of term knees-up and shindig. Tradition dictates that Part 1 is shown on BBC2 because it's a bit intellekshual and Part 2 is shown on BBC1 so that the common masses (but not so common that their box is tuned to ITV) can enjoy the familiar toons and jingoism.

And because the Albert Hall only holds 6000 or whatever, they invented Proms in the Park, in an ever optimistic hope that the British weather will be dry-and-fine midway into September. In principle, a Bloody Good Idea, especially when it also brings in Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland and that non-country known as The North. Parks can hold tens of thousands of people.

The Hyde Park features Angela Gheorghiou, Alison Balsom and Vittorio Grigolo, entirely consistent with the concept of light-hearted 'accessible' classical music.

They also feature Lionel Ritchie and a Madness Tribute Band.

Why?

I quite like Lionel Richie's records, and certainly did so in the Eighties. I love Madness. This, however, is the BBC. A Tribute Band? Isn't that what you're supposed to do for a Girls Night Out, Office Party, whatever. I'm sure in the right place a Madness Tribute Band, if they were any good, would be fun.

I can't see any benefit in mixing genres in such a judderingly juxtaposed way. If I'm in pop mode or mood I'll listen to pop; if I'm in the mood for a star soprano, rising tenor and talented trumpeter, I'll listen to them.

I think it's extremely patronising for them to imply that somehow the only way the great unwashed of the British public will come to see a star soprano, a rising tenor and a talented trumpeter is by tempting them in with a has-been MOR crooner and a pastiche of a historic rock band.

Lionel Richie and "Madness" says my age-group, and my age-group is a crucial demograph because we all have children young enough to be dragged with us when we go out on Saturday night. But I can't imagine many children being dragged in by Lionel Richie and Pretend Madness.

I would have thought as human beings we are all capable of operating at different levels. They don't drag people into watching cricket by tantalising snippets of football. Some of us might read a chicklit novel one day and a weighty historical biography the next. We snack on comfort food on Friday and eat a quality three course meal with fine wine on Saturday.

So why should something which is billed 'the world's greatest classical music festival' be mongrelised with Lionel Madness and Pretend Richie, as if somehow they make Angela Gheorghiu, Alison Balsom and Vittorio Grigolo more palatable? I don't have a bag of crisps and a glass of Ribena in-between courses at an Italian restaurant, and I don't expect to read about Big Knickers and depilation in a book about geopolitics. Even though I am quite happy to sit down and read Bridget Jones whilst sipping my Ribena with Lionel Richie on the stereo.

Maybe I would have gone to PitP for Angela and Vittorio, but I don't want to be at a place where the audience is treated as idiots. So instead I'll probably watch the Proper Prom on the telly. But only if nothing else crops up (if so I'll record it, just for Dima).

Update: having written and proofread this and searched for links I have just realised that Roberto Alagna and Chas and Dave will also be appearing. I can't be bothered to go back and amend, but just so you know...

Mozart Prom

Not much of a clue, I have to admit. There has been rather a lot of them. And, to be honest, six minutes into the one I am going to review I had already drafted my blog post "I'm just about Mozarted-out for 2006. Call me again in ten years or whatever..."

And I have to say Sunday's Prom was not exactly designed to make one like Mozart.

Mozart, reconstr. Philippe A. Autexier: Meistermusik, for men's chorus and orchestra, (original version of Masonic Funeral Music, K477)
Mozart: Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K543

Mozart, compl. Sussmayr: Requiem in D minor, K626

The main problem was the orchestra. And the choir. And I suppose, the conductor. But the choice of repertoire was not exactly inspired. The Meistermusik was boring. I am not a great fan of most of Mozart's symphonies and I can't say this one did anything for me.

The problem was an intimate Period Ensemble in the Albert Hall. I'm sure they would have been lovely in a smaller more intimate venue like the Barbican or the Festival Hall...But they were shite in the Albert Hall. Oh, all the right notes, basically in the right places and most of them on pitch. But no passion.

After the interval was Mozza's Requiem. This is not his best mass by a long shot. The C major (Coronation) is exponentially better. In my opinion, which, on this blog is all that matters, anyway...And it was not a great performance.

For some bizarre reason I have three versions of this in my collection, and two on my mp3player. I think I first really came across it in the film, Amadeus, and it's often used in documentaries of his life. There's a sense of doom running through it, especially noticeable in the introduction. But that just failed to come through, a lack of boom. boom. boom. coming from the bass, instrumental or choral. In fact a general lack of vim and a lingering aura of inertia. Jimmy didn't like it. "Requiem, bloody depressing. I don't got to Church on Sundays to sing bloody hymns. Is this supposed to be a night out?"

But the soloists were the salvation. Ingeborg Danz (ms) and Alfred Reiter (bs) were okay, and Carolyn Sampson and Mark Padmore were gorgeous. Really gorgeous.

Now, let me look at the professional reviews...

Telegraph

On Sunday night, Philippe Herreweghe, conducting the Collegium Vocale Gent and the Orchestre des Champs-Élysées, proved to be the right man at the right moment. Mozart's Symphony No 39 had impetus, clarity and healthy rhythms. And then with a front-rank quartet of soloists in Carolyn Sampson, Ingeborg Danz, Mark Padmore and Alfred Reiter, the performance of Mozart's Requiem was lean in terms of articulation but well-fed with spirituality and humanity.

Sort of what I said, really.

And the Times, kind of quite different from what I said, but I think we agree, broadly.

The Independent

The Requiem came over as reverential but not urgent. Symphony 39 bounced along nicely but a reconstruction of Mozart's anguished Masonic Funeral Music using men's voices in the plainchant, was a damp squib.

And I'm not out of kilter with Simon writing in omh, whom I'd chatted to before the concert.

So, after all, I'm not going mad and suffering from overMozart.

Most of my 2006 Promming has been done from the sofa or computer chair and I have been trying to catch most things if I'm in. It was quite a little Mozart feat this week. Tuesday's was all nice and pleasant but did rather serve to confirm my view that one can have too much of the boy Mozza, or indeed the man Mozza. It's all these symphonies. The thing is, they're all very nice, but after a while, the niceness has one yearning for a bit of Beethoven or Wagner mood and gloom, dark psychotic forces at work.

Or maybe some jazz-type stuff. Now, I don't like jazz, but this was televised on Wednesday night and I remembered my vow that I would try and catch as much as possible. Charlie Hazlewood conducting and presenting for TV. Is there no end to his talents?

I love that Ibert Divertissement, one of the best pieces that has been in the Proms all season. So far. I would have sworn that I knew neither the composer nor the music but once the band started playing it was very familiar. Hmm.  The Weill and the Gershwin were lovely, and would probably appear on my compilation "Now That's What I Call Crossover" but I'm afraid the obligatory 'new' piece was a load of wank and toss, like just about every 'new' piece I have heard this year (Magnus Lindbergh aside). I'm sorry, maybe I'm getting old, but it's just NOISE. Sort of makes me yearn for 21st Century pop music.

By Thursday night I was feeling a lot more disposed towards Mozart. the Andante from Piano Concerto 21 had enticed me on my mp3 player as I sat on the train and Soave sia il vento had wooed me as I walked through Sheffield City Centre. So I was more up for 23 piano by the evening, especially as it was accompanied by a rather splendidly large Symphony Orchestra that also played the large Bruckner.

So by this evening I didn't know what to think.

The Mozart 25 was very nice, very lively, taken at a spanking pace. Great piece of music? No, I don't think so, when you consider how many Mozart works are better. A lot of people wrote better symphonies. But I do like it. Not a contendah for Gert's Top 100, though.

Hanspeter Kyburz's Noesis was undoubtedly the worst piece of amusical pretentious rubbish I have heard in the Proms all season, up against some pretty stiff competition. I have decided that the idea of violins and cellos being made to sound like saws is not music, it's sound effects and doesn't belong on a concert platform. I'm going to buy Jimmy some wax crayons and he's going to scribble meaninglessly on the back of a cereal packet and enter it for the BBC4 Proms art competition, saying it was inspired by Noesis.

The Debussy was boring, but I expected that of Debussy.

So it was a relief when Mozart 40 came on and was taken at a spanking rattle. First movement 'made famous by ringtones the world over'. Second movement, quite possibly one of the very greatest orchestral movements ever written. Oh god yes, I've just remembered, Mozart was an utter fucking genius. Thank you, Sir Simon,  for reminding me of this fact I shouldn't have forgotten. I should of course have read my own blogpost from when I heard it in January. Maybe I should have studied the programme notes, been prepared. but what a glorious beautiful surprise to have that gorgeous music floating away from the TV and into my soul.

Just over a week to go. Sunday is Beethoven 9. Don't know any of the soloists, not that that necessarily matters. It's Beethoven's 9th. Then Monday is Beethoven 5 and Tchaik 5. Both on BBC4. Some massive orchestral forces at work all week, and we have a final Mozart-orgy on Friday with another of his excellent symphonies, and his fantastic C minor Mass, finishing with an unusually attractive Last Night, with a heavy Russian theme. I think we can all safely say we are greatly looking forward to the Mr Haughty-Russkie letting his magnificent hair down for Land of Hope and Glory and Auld Lang Syne. I hope he won't glare when people let off the dissonant party horns.

When was the last time we had a tenor at the Last Night? I think we're about due to have a tenor next year.

Confusing Mahler

I am currently watching tonight's Prom on BBC4.

A transformed programme. Dawn Upshaw's cancellation meant that Osvaldo Golijov’s Three Songs for Soprano and Orchestra was replaced by Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3. A bit bizarre, it would seem, but that soloist and that orchestra are performing it tomorrow night in Edinburgh, so it makes logistical if not musical sense.

Now we have Mahler 5. An amazing symphony with a palpable sense of romanticism. Apologies to those for whom I have promised to flag up nice easy listening non-vocal music. Should have mentioned this one. It starts in a blaze of glory and hen gets wishy washy, before breaking into the most gorgeous lyrical passage of sostenuto increasing in volume and passion. I admit I had to consult the radio times, what are they doing after the Mahler Five - a bit of Brahms, a bit of Classic FM 'we'll give you a short extract out of context because you're stupid and we want to patronise you". This is also part of Mahler 5.

Can I just say that despite the ubiquity of this passage on all "Classic FM Mood Music for Dusting and Floor Mopping"-type compilation CDs, it is ace music. And so weird to have a Prom without a singer.

Ah well, it's repeated at 1.40 am. And will be on Listen Again for a week.

I have the same problem. Something kept coming up on non-random on my mp3 player. I assumed it was a light operetta. Eventually I peered at the screen and realised it was Das Lied Von der Erde.

Mahler is on my list of composers I want to get to know better. But he's queued behind Britten, Mendelssohn, and Haydn.

But I'm trying to make myself watch all the Proms regardless of what's on. After all, it's free. And I might learn something.

Steve Reich Prom

This review is well over due. So long overdue that it's gone right off the Listen again radar.

Excuses - it was a Late night one so I didn't get home until one, then the next day I ended up doing stuff. Just stuff, you know.

And I seem to have lost the ability to write.

It was bloody good! Is that a review?

Earlier in the evening I met up with Carla and Caro in Carluccio's Cafe at South Ken (try saying that pissed, fortunately I wasn't, for a very enjoyable meal and natter. That's what the internet does, brings together people who are wondering how to pass the time before the Late Night Prom.

There's a special atmosphere in a LNP quite quite different from the mainstream ones. Some of the best Proms I have been to rival football matches for fevered atmosphere. The very few LNP I have attended are mellow and chilled. Perhaps the music is deliberately chosen that way.

The programme was:

Clapping Music (5 mins)
Nagoya Marimbas (5 mins)
Music for Mallet Instruments, Voices, and Organ (19 mins)
Drumming (45 mins)

Programme notes

Actually Caro and I arrived moments late and were not allowed in. I was about to protest that we ought to be allowed on while the audience is still applauding, then I realised it was 'Clapping Music'.

I find Steve Reich mesmerising and fascinating. I was first introduced to his music back in my school days, by my percussion teacher, and instantly fell in love with it. This programme was very dominated by percussion; even when voices and a piccolo joined in, they weren't there to provide pretty melodies. I can't imagine Steve Reich getting much airplay on Classic FM with its safe, smug middle-England agenda. I explained it to somebody the next day as Classical meets Rock meets World, but that is an oversimplification of the fusion. On the Tube, Chemical Brothers' Hey Boy Hey Girl came up on shuffle and I developed a goofy grin as I recognised the musical links. I dont know very much about the Chemical Brothers, except for liking their music, despite its genre, so I wouldn't know if they are Reich influenced. They must be, I reckon.

His music isn't for everybody. I'm afraid I can't sit here writing deep intellectual twaddle about the psychological effect of the music, because I actually don't think there is any. It's about how rhythm is constructed, how rhythm dominates, and how a tune emerges out of the seeming lack of linear melody. And it draws you in relentlessly. No room for sloppiness from the players, it is very structured. You kind of want to dance, indeed some of the players were following the urge to dance, or at least to bop rhythmically.

Good fun. but thankfully, not fun that was headlined with great big banners saying "Recommended by Classic FM" or "I'm Titchmarsh and I'm going to assume you know nothing about music and talk down making irrelevant unfunny quips". It was about the fun being in the music and in the listener.

Weird search requests

Examining site stats someone came here with "Vengerov orgasmic faces"

Turns out Maxim is just doing Prom right now

BBC - Proms - Prom Events by Day

Maxim Vengerov, the heir to Heifetz's bow, returns to play and direct an all-Mozart programme comprising two violin concertos, the collegial Sinfonia concertante (with brilliant British violist Lawrence Power) and the eloquent symphony that Mozart wrote aged only 18.

Most excitingly, This concert will be recorded for future broadcast on BBC ONE and BBC FOUR

So, the veracity of the search term will be able to be investigated.

Armchair Proms double

In  a few moments a very promising Prom is due to start on the radio  - BBC - Proms - Prom Events by Day. A Mozart Piano Concerto. I do Mozart by numbers, and as it's a high number it's probably worth a listen. After the interval is Schuman''s 3rd - Rhenish - Symphony. Listen to the depiction of the towering grandeur of Cologne Cathedral. Also the statutory new work by an obscure male composer.

It finishes at 9.30 which gives meover an hour to heave my carcass into the next room for the all Mozart special on the TV. Sadly, it will be introduced by Alan "At least he's not Jade Goody" Titchmarsh, but a feast of singers singing songs. Got rather mixed reviews; some members of the mmofm crowd were there, including a token SOSSLED-er on duty at the Stage Door, whilst some of the others were Terfeling on Hampstead Heath

Bedroom Prom Blogging

An idea copied from I Primi Divi, although technically I'm underneath the bedroom in what I quaintly call the Dining Room but might as well be called the Computer Room, or the Room With The Stereo In It or The Room Where We Fall Over Things. Although the bedroom did play a role (until 1920 hours, Prom 33 minus 10 minutes).

I've had enough  of summer. Could somebody make it go away, please. I want it to be Forever Spring but without the pissydownwithrainbit.

Surely, on paper, overall the best Prom of the entire season.  A 'must see'

M. Haydn: Requiem (41 mins)
interval
Mozart: Symphony No. 31 in D major, K297 ('Paris') (18 mins)
Mozart: Mass in C major, K317 ('Coronation') (28 mins)

Carolyn Sampson soprano
Hilary Summers mezzo-soprano
James Gilchrist tenor
Peter Harvey bass

Choir of The King's Consort
The King's Consort
Robert King conductor

Good thing they let Robert King out on bail. I was shocked, I tell you. One of my favourite conductors. Although I didn't like the pace of the Hosanna in the Mozart. Too slow.

Being at the radio is not as good as being in the hall. Carolyn sounded gorgeous, although I've heard her sound better. I've never heard James sound as good as he did this evening. 

Very nice, three gorgeous pieces of music generally well performed - although a noticeable duff horn note in the Mozart Hosanna. Definitely worth a listen again.

It's over and at least I don't have to travel back. But I was thinking of waiting for Carolyn outside the Stage Door. She's my favourite female singer and I've never met her, and I want to tell her how much I adore her voice. Ah well, another time.

JDF at the Proms

For me, this is one of the three 'Must See' Proms of the season.

Having skived off Siegfried (heat), had to leave Cosi fan Tutte (heat) and skived off Belshazzars Feast (domestic stuff, verge of nervous breakdown...), I was getting a little bit anxious about my ability to sit through a Prom. I went armed with drinking water, spraying water and a fan, which quickly collapsed, leaving me in the traditional Proms mode of using my programme as a fan. Actually, having a second tier box seat (ooh, all of £18) I found myself to be marginally but significantly cooler than in the Circle.

In the bar I perused the programme and began to get anxious all over again. It looked so tantalising that I feared for my high expectations. I had to laugh at someone who described Juan Diego Florez as a 'famous Argentinian baritone'. Peruvian, actually, and it's difficult to imagine a less baritional tenor! I hope their misunderstanding didn't mar their enjoyment!

update: Well, the Telegraph has him down as Chilean. Let me spell it out, he's from P-E-R-U. Like Paddington.

Programme in the extended entry; available to listen to on line for a few more days.

Very much a concert of two halves. To be honest, a little un-Prom-like in a sense, but tremendous good fun. the first half was the opera bits, particularly an exposition of bel canto singing. I love the overture to the Barber of Seville, very much an opera I regard as consisting of an overture and two arias - but it was a third, rarely performed aria that was on display tonight, Cessa di piu resistere, which was a splendid display of vocal gymnastics froma gorgeous and technically excellent, secure voice. It did strike me in a number of arias and songs that his voice didn't seem fully opened up until he hit a sufficiently high note, but I'm quibbling at the margins.

Una furtiva lagrima is a truly gorgeous aria, and a great showpiece for any tenor; they all like to stick it on their compilation CDs. It starts with a gently introduction, which is a cue for far too many people to have their whispered conversations....sigh...if the composer didn't want you to hear the music, he wouldn't have written it. Trust me on this one. It was a good rendition, one dodgy note, but otherwise excellent. It's one of those arias that tempt to me to do competitive comparisons between various versions heard live and on record; therefore I say it lacked some nuance and a plaintive quality. But that's not to say it wasn't pleasing.

I felt rather indifferent to the orchestral piece that followed, knowing it was just a filler before the Party Piece de resistance.

The party piece de resistance being Ah! mes amis, quel jourde fete (35 minutes into the Listen again, Part 1). The orchestra bits are nicely twiddly and militaristic without being bombastic. Most of the aria exists in order to provide a build-up to the fireworks of a climax*

Regular readers will know - or guess - that when it comes to tenors I am not a High C freak. I would hate to be the sort of person whose pleasure depends entirely on whether a C' comes out. But in an aria where nine are written, it really is a pleasure to hear them so securely tossed off, a stupendously visceral pleasure that sent the audience wild. I was not the only person screaming in a vaguely adolescent girlie way! Definitely King of the High Cs!

To be honest, I could have done without the Falla, even though it was played excellently. It just seemed a bit long for a concert which would have equally have been at home in an arena-type setting.

The second half made it seem even more like a commercially promoted-type concert, and was tremendous fun for that. Lots of Latino Pop. A couple of people on the net have complained about the miking, but I have to say it didn't bother me. In fact, although I instinctively felt things were different, it was insufficiently intrusive to get as far as articulating the difference. But then, I am quite used to subtle miking of classical singers at the Albert Hall; maybe some people simply avoid that sort of event in the name of purism.

I thought he sounded lovely singing those songs - to the extent that his newly released album Sentimiento Latino has been added to my Amazon wishlist!, despite the apparent lack of promotional video.

Of the songs sung, the most familiar was Granada which sounded really quite different from how I am accustomed to hearing it sung. Always interesting to hear different interpretations of a song. I think JDF is obviously opera's Prince of Latino Pop.

It was fun to observe participate in the audience going a bit crazy over him, and I felt very smug lending my superdouper binoculars to the people (Mum and teenage daughters) in the next box. Although as the Mum said "As if I'm not hot enough already..."

I took a dozen photos from inside the hall, and eight at the stage door, although I didn't actually get to speak to him, surrounded as he was by teenage groupies. I don't approve of teenagers being opera groupies, especially not the way they dress. Tut. And then there were the old ladies insisting on sharing their life story; the posh thirty-something woman anxious to impress her knowledge and wisdom on anybody who was in earshot outside the Stage Door "This is definitely a voice will hear..." Er, yes..! I'm not showing the photos yet because in an attempt to cope I am working slowly through my photos chronologically - I currently have a backlog of about 170! So I suggest checking back in about three or four weeks!

And finally hi to Caro who I met in the bar!

* in my not entirely serious opinion!

Cor! What a scorcher!

The Substandard screamed Tubes 54° buses 47°

And the thermometer is set to rise further in unprecedented hot weather!

Three times today I have felt the sun/heat on my bare skin and concluded "That is quite possibly the hottest I have ever felt in this country" Can't be sure, but that's how I felt.

I went telling random people today that tomorrow is "Dress Down Wednesday". Well, not entirely random. Shall we say there was a clear gender bias in my sample...!

While on the bus from Victoria to Kensington Gore I counted 20 white people in jackets (I decided not to count visible ethnic minorities after I saw a very elderly woman in sari, jumper and cardigan). Of the twenty, one was in full morning regalia (Buck House Garden Party?) and one was emerging grandly from the Lanesborough. I counted five wearing jackets into the auditorium of the Albert Hall. And I felt ever so sorry for the commissionaires who were not permitted to remove their jackets until the conductor raised his baton. But in general, despite the "No Jacket Required" rule, I was surprised by how many men were wearing ties. In the office okay (for once our air conditioning was beautiful!), but once liberated and homeward bound...take it off!

As for the orchestra...surely Enlightenment means wearing shirt sleeves not dinner togs. It's the Proms for heavens sake, not Glyndebourne. Okay, it's Glyndebourne at the Proms.

But hey, how can I manage to provide a commentary from the Albert Hall even while Cosi is being broadcast live from same? Have they fitted free Wi-Fi into the Albert Hall?

Baton up at 6.30pm. 7.15 - my god the interval is not until 8. I think I might actually die. 7.25: I don't know whether this feeling is imminent vomiting or imminent fainting. Either way, I do not want it broadcast live on Radio 3. And if I did either, especially the former, I don't think I could ever show my face at a Prom or an opera again "Oh there's that woman who threw up in Cosi..."

I paused for a moment in the bar and decided that I could wait an hour until the second half started and decide whether or not to go in. I also realised that there were a couple of dozen people - probably late comers but perhaps the heat-affected, too, lounging in the stairwells and hallways listening to the relay, watching on a screen (fixed camera - no official televising tonight).

I went into the Ladies and I was shocked. I had earlier gasped at how red my nose was despite not having really been outside today. Having been out in the sun on Tuesday and Saturday my skin was a foreign-looking shade of walnut, but at 7.30 this evening it was paler than I have seen myself since the final day of my A-Levels in 1986 when I looked in the mirror and watched the bedroom somersault before my eyes...

So I came home, realising at the bus stop that my mp3 player is an FM radio. And I was home soon after the second act begun.

My attendance at Belshazzar on Sunday is weather dependent. It had better break before next Tuesday when a certain Peruvian dusky eyed Tenorino takes centre stage. I do not want to miss one minute of Juan Diego Florez.

Proms

I got my brochure today which seems slightly odd because there seems to be absolutely nothing official on t'internet.

Ooh, ain't blogging great!

To be honest, I think I shall be taking most of it in by television or radio. There's an awful lot I will enjoy this way somewhat more than being stuck in a baking hot hall with that awkward journey home.

Second is full of Mozart arias with a cornucopia of singers, including, for example Simon "Shirtless" Keenlyside. However, SOSSLED will be attending Bryn's so-called 'Opera' Gala at Kenwood, where no doubt he'll entertain us with My Old Man's A Dustman in Welsh with a Mockney accent*. It will be recorded for broadcast on BBC1. Shirtless - presumably fully clothed  - et al, not Bryn, I mean.

The following day is Siegfried, which has to be done to be one Gotterdammerung short of a hat-trick of tetralogies.

Followed swiftly by Glyndebourne's Cosi.

The lovely Teddy Tahu Rhodes appears at the Blue Peter Proms.  And his surfers' look will be wasted on that age group.

Then surprise surprise Belshazzar's Feast with Bryn.

One of the highlights for me will be Juan Diego Florez singing bel canto and cr***o**r.

A major highlight will be The Kings Consort performing M. Haydn''s Requiem and Mozart's Coronation Mass.  With soprano Carolyn Sampson already making me drool at the prospect. She's doing an all Mozart programme, too, but it's Bank Holiday Sunday, which makes things awkward. (I'll book tickets and be be reconciled to return them if other commitments arise)

A late night Steve Reich evening is tantalising.

The Marinsky under Gergiev are doing Lady Macbeth of Mtensk.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky sings the Last Night, which explains the flurry of search requests for him today. Angela Gheorghiu joins Terry Wogan In the Park (I can't quite imagine her as one of Terry's Old Gits, to be honest).

There's loads of other stuff, some of it not for voices, but those are my highlights.  Actually, I'd be sensible just to stick to those (but not Shirtless) and enjoy the rest by radio. Most of the concerts from mid-August onwards will be shown on either BBC2 or BBC4, quite a few live and others recorded. I wonder what would happen if the BBC chose only to show the second half of the World Cup finals, some of them recorded and shown later, and the bulk on BBC3.  I, for one, would be furious.

You'll read the Mainstream Media coverage of this in due course.

* You think I jest

Julius Caesar

I have just come back from a splendid fun semi-staged performance of Handel's Giulio Cesare

All round a good performance, and the audience came away bubbling with enjoyment. Overall a good cast. The two that impressed me most were two I've never heard of: Danielle de Niese, who played Cleopatra - such a babe there were men in the Arena going red as they watched her - and Rachid ben Abdeslam, who played Nerenus - the campest cutest Arabic countertenor I have ever seen, who had us in stitches, almost falling off our seats, at least where I was sitting.

And a really imaginative semi-staging, with lots of falling to the floor, lying on the floor, rolling round on the floor, from quite a number of different voice types.

Very gender-bending, two counter tenors, who always confuse me, anyway, and mezzo-sopranos playing male roles, there was quite a bit of girl-on-girl action between Julius Caesar and Cleopatra. Also some sibling incest between Ptolomey and Cleopatra - got to have sibling incest...

I like Handel's operas. there's no great hidden message, they're not really designed to move you to tears. They're there to be enjoyed, with lots of lovely tunes, and a few pleasant, if not especially stand-out or memorable arias.

Prom 11

Last night we went to the Albert Hall, pausing en route for a delightful meal at Hugo's. I have just one criticism - if I order a Real Organic Lemonade I don't really expect to find it including ice-cubes made - presumably - from tap water. Otherwise, really good quality food - I had crayfish and ginger wrapped in smoked salmon served on an enticing bed of diced-tiny beetroot-and-red-pepper and strips of cucumber; followed by halloumi and roasted veg with couscous, perhaps a little overmuch enormous mushrooms; finished with the most scrumilicious Blueberry Creme Brulee. A good 8/10 overall. The house red is very nice. If you want to combine with a trip to the Albert Hall booking is a must.

The music was

Mendelssohn
Overture - The Hebrides ('Fingal's Cave') (10 mins)
Bruch
Violin Concerto No.1 in G minor (25 mins)
interval
Vaughan Williams
A Sea Symphony* (65 mins)

Leila Josefowicz (violin)

Janice Watson (soprano)*
Dwayne Croft (baritone)*

Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir*
Chester Festival Chorus*

Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra
Gerard Schwarz conductor

The piece that lingers in my mind is Fingal's Cave, beautiful music. It was beautifully played but it didn't really fill the Albert Hall.

Next was Bruch's fabulous violin concerto. Again, technically excellent playing of a beautiful piece of music, but not one that moved me to rapture. Leila Josefowicz produced a beautiful sound.

The second half, Vaughan Williams Sea Symphony was merely mediocre. I have a much better performance on CD. It was magnificent to see such a large choir who made such a beautiful sound, the Ladies in particular, especially the sopranos. I found my attention wavering during much of the performance despite my close studying of Whitman's poems. Janice Watson made a very nice sound; Dwayne Croft I can take or leave. An adequate serviceable sound, but, ultimately, generic.

And I suppose 'generic' would sum up the overall performance from the orchestra. 6/10 or 3 stars, possibly, but no more. My summary of the V-W was 'Wagnerian in its ambitions but not in its intensity'. And Jimmy got very hot, wearing good trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, despite me telling him he was overdressed.

Tonight, The Dream of Gerontius with Mr Halle's Band and Choir. The last time I heard them perform this was May 1984. My insightful review at the time: "In places the music was really powerful." I am very much looking forward to hearing the much-raved about Alice Coote, whom I have never heard live.

Reviews

(don't worry, I'm about to go on blogging hiatus - £6 bn of expenditure to audit, and a zillion photos to edit...!)

Audience hits fever pitch for Domingo's Prom debut, and Standing room only at the Proms for Domingo and Wagner

Die Walküre (only four bloody stars, do me a favour...!)

Die Walküre

The Independent had another go at another review.

I'm so scared of disappearing links that I have decided to copy-and-paste every review of one utterly unforgettable night...With my favourite phrases highlighted in bold, for easy skim-reading...

Die Walküre, my definitive review

Having done the impressionist reaction and the girlie squealie bit, it's time to do a proper serious review of the Royal Opera House's Die Walküre. Just to recap, I saw it twice at Covent Garden and once at the Albert Hall. Unless indicated the remarks apply to all performances, except that specific references to the production - sets, costumes, lighting, action - refer specifically to the staged productions at Covent Garden rather than the concert performance at The Proms.

I have been procrastinating about writing this. I am nervous that I lack the words to do it justice, and convinced that no words can convey my emotional, physical, visceral, spiritual reaction. I am scared that my review will take on Wagnerian proportions and will require 16 hours to get through!

Let's quickly deal with the bits I didn't like.  The single worst aspect was the lighting. I tried to rationalise that my reaction to the lighting was an aspect of my squealing girlie self, sat in a not-great seat, I would have preferred  less noir so that I could see my Plácido better. But then the intelligent, educated, mature me also thought that it was too noir. Yes, a bit of darkness for contrast, but stage lighting exists largely so that the paying customers in the darkened auditorium could see what was going on.

Production wise, I thought it much better than the ENO's version - I am now firmly convinced that their Valkyrie was their weakest link, and not merely a casualty of me being at the depth of CFS when I saw it. Although ENO’s ride was better staged.

There were aspects of each Act I really hated. In Act I the worst aspect was the set. I don't really know why it started with Sieglinde in gentle repose halfway up the wall: surely as the victim of forced marriage and domestic violence she would have been in domestic slavery, not apparently watching Daytime TV. I was indifferent to the metal helix ash tree that dominated the set the first time, but I totally resented it the second time, especially because from where I was sitting, it more or less obscured Plácido for much of Winterstürme. I also thought the showering with Rose Petals was particularly lame.

The helix remained in the second Act set in Valhalla. I took this to be symbolic, showing the connection between the ash tree at Sieglinde's place and the tree from which Wotan fashioned his staff. But this also troubled me dramaturgically. I am not convinced that Valhalla was built round the tree; besides, why did Valhalla look so like the place the gods had assembled, and received the giants, and brought Alberich and the gold, before crossing the Rainbow bridge to Valhalla. I also disliked the fact that in the Second Act it was quite easy to see the conductor reflected off the rear wall. I thought this effect worked well in the mirrored ballroom in Un ballo in maschera; I felt it was unintended in Walküre, and as much as I love Tony  Pappano, I did find this distracting during Wotan's confrontations with first Fricka and then Brunnhilde, and his monologue.

I found much of Act 3 irritating. I did not care for the Valkyries being propped with horse's skulls, and I found the actual Ride to be a bit symbolic. The single worst aspect was the revolving stage aspect, which Wotan pushed round and various Valkyries darted around.

But overall, the production was nothing like as bad as the critics had maintained (although I feel it looked better on the TV than in the theatre. Is that right? I don't know, but I guess it's the future with DVD being such a perfect  medium for opera). As I said, I found it far preferable to ENO's - modern dress - version and also much preferable to the Met's version, available on DVD, and resembling a rather indifferent late-70s children's fantasy/adventure TV programme, exactly the sort of programming which caused me to detest fantasy/adventure stuff.

I loved the fact that this gave Siegmund ample opportunity for rolling around on the floor, on the kitchen table, on the ash tree...I do like rolling around, especially when done well. I will also concede that the furniture tossing was par excellence. But in my opinion a bit of tenorial rolling round tops baritonal furniture tossing. And of course, Wotan tossing the chaise-longue conveniently provided a sort of wind-break for the twins to have a bit more, er hum, intimacy.

I felt all the gentlemen handled their weapons magnificently. Hunding's melodramatic arrival, banging his axe into the table caused an amused reaction from the audience both times, and I missed it at the Prom. Wotan's spear, of course, wielded with macho  godliness. And best of all, Siegmund's sword, won and named "Nothung" heroically and presented so nobly to Sieglinde as a bridal gift, and then shattered by that nasty Wotan. I just adored Siegmund's death, even though I was struggling to see it through my tears and my tear-streaked glasses.

And the Magic Fire was a masterful coup de theatre, finally justifying the silly helix thing as actual fire crept down the slide - reminiscent of Alberich's dinghy-powered slide into the Rhine at the beginning of Das Rheingold; then Wotan took the flame in his hand, and sent it shooting round Brunnhilde's rock, to that oh so beautiful music.

Ah, the music...! What a genius! Every picture tells a story, but every note every chord every leitmotif. From the opening strings of the storm to the final chords. Nearly four hours of glorious orchestration and evocation. Each act over an hour long, and each act through composed, no pauses for breath or applause. Absolutely marvellously well done to the sterling orchestra of the Royal Opera House. And a resounding Bravo to the magnificent Antonio Pappano. Some reviewers would take pride in pointing out the odd flubbed note here, the strange dischord there. And in twelve hours, yes, there were one or two. But overall, splendid!

There's part of me that would like to listen to an entire Ring in merely the orchestral version, and, certainly, recordings exist, at least in highlights forms. But then, how could one live without the fabulous singing, and the amazing story. Many years ago some silly fool announced pompously that Wagner is for the immature mind only. What nonsense! Every time I hear this piece - I hear something new.  I got very excited when certain leitmotifs leaped out at me and I was able to say "Hey that's Wotan" or "That's Siegfried" or the Magic Fire Music. But if it was just a series of leitmotifs strung together it wouldn't be what it is.  It's more than that; I can't explain it.

And then there's the singing. And the acting. How can the two be separated? On the phone to my nephew in Friday's second interval, he expressed surprise at this concept of singing and acting going together and almost stopped winding me up (ha! I jest, that will never stop...!)

We were blessed with a magnificent cast (in order of appearance):

Siegmund: Plácido Domingo
Sieglinde: Waltraud Meier
Hunding: Eric Halfvarson
Wotan: Bryn Terfel
Brünnhilde: Lisa Gasteen
Fricka: Rosalind Plowright
Gerhilde: Geraldine McGreevy
Ortlinde: Elaine McKrill
Waltraute: Claire Powell
Schwertleite: Rebecca de Pont Davies
Helmwige: Irene Theorin
Siegrune: Sarah Castle
Grimgerde: Claire Shearer
Rossweisse: Elizabeth Sikora

How can I single any one of them out?

I am sitting here trying to write a cold dispassionate objective review of the singers. And I simply cannot do it. there just wasn't a weak link. Of course, more experienced and expert listeners than me have made comparisons with great singers of the past, and found that this cast fell short. And so be it. They may be right; they may be influenced by the mists of nostalgia; they may be picking an ideal cast from a recording here and a recording there. None of that matters to me. This was the cast I heard and to me they were simply magnificent. I doubt I shall ever hear another cast this good. Certainly not in this opera. If I do, I shall have to count my blessings as manifold. I feel a bit like I did on 2 May 1997, when I was delirious with emotion at the knowledge of that magnificent General Election win, and simultaneously in mourning at the knowledge of never again in my lifetime. Just look at the comment that Chris left at Geraldine's blog

I think for weeks, months, years to come, I will keep having flashback memories of all those favourite moments. And oh so many. But it wasn't about the moments. It was about the overall effect. I feel a bit like Pavlov's Dog, almost as if I'm crying on order -  a particular phrase comes and I'm blubbing. I have just watched Act 1 from what I recorded off the TV. I was utterly spellbound. Sitting on my sofa. Mesmerised as it moved inexorably to a fantastic climax. (Although I have to say that I did think Plácido looked a bit rough. Still cute, though...!)

I feel so privileged to have been to this at Covent Garden twice, to have seen it staged, and then to have been to that amazing night last night at the Albert Hall. And then to have it captured on my Sky+, soon to be transferred to video*

I have thought long and hard and I have decided that my absolute highlight was Winterstürme. Either from 8th July, or as performed on TV. I've now heard him sing this four times this year, and assume that he will again in Berlin on 6 August. I have a sneaking feeling that for the rest of my life I might just single this out as my  favourite aria that he sings...!

And if there is one word to sum up this memorable and beautiful run, it has to be legato. Or bel canto.

*don't be entirely surprised if I buy a DVD-R very very very soon. Not that I can actually afford one, I'm pretty near broke, but the what the fuck, it's only money! And it's pay day a week on Friday - anyone got any advice on DVD-Rs?

A little bit of silliness

When I went to the first performance a week ago Friday I was - eventually - very excited. I had been so looking forward to it for well over a year, then the events of the previous day rather affected my perspective etc.

But by the time I reached the ROH I had a palpable sense of excitement, and with anxiety about whether my expectations would be met. I've already talked about the music, the performances etc.

Start of Act 1, and Plácido came on stage, I was thrilled, and I could sense a thrill around the Amphitheatre, the almost choreographed raising of binoculars. And I thoroughly enjoyed him, but there was a little part of me that wondered why I wasn't more tremblingly excited and hysterical.

Start of Act 2 and I'm suddenly startled - gosh, it's Bryn Terfel! I had been so excited about seeing Plácido, I hadn't really considered that I would be seeing another Big Star, who, normally, would be the Big Star I would pinpoint as being the star attraction.

Start of Act 3 and I suddenly realise it's that music, and I'm startled. I know there's a clue, the opera is called Di Walküre, so it shouldn't be a surprise to hear Ride of the Valkyries. Intellectually, it wasn't a surprise - I have seen the opera live before, on TV and DVD, and countless times over the years on radio and record. But it was an unexpected thrill, nevertheless.

And my reactions this past Friday were almost identical.

In between times I met Plácido, who is just totally lovely, and I was so pleased to meet him, so excited. I mean, I could go on; I just want to savour my memories.

Last night, I got unbelievably excited. I do so love the Royal Opera House, but there is something very special about the Albert Hall, in particular the Proms. There's a lot peripheral I hate about the Albert Hall - there's a grottiness about the milling areas, not enough milling room, I hate the walk down Exhibition Road when far too many people leaving the museums fail to grasp the concept of not spreading out across the entire pavement. I could go on, and probably will between now and 10 September.

But walk into the auditorium and what a wow! feeling. I had a seat in the Stalls, on the 7th row, behind the arena, if the conductor's podium is 12 o'clock, I was at 5 o'clock. Good view. Not the best view I've had in the Albert Hall, but good. It was fabulous watching the place fill up. And I mean fill up. Not just the fact that every seat was full, and all Promming places, but there was a buzz, an excitement. I flicked through the programme and began to tremble with sheer utter excitement. I wanted to turn to my neighbours and tell them how excited I was, I wanted to hug random strangers.

The orchestra walked on to warm applause. Then, more applause. "Here comes Tony" I thought. Then the applause started going a bit mad, and into my view came Tony Pappano, Waltraud Meier, and Plácido Domingo. So I was applauding madly, too, and never taking my eyes off Plácido, who looked actually really quite taken aback. He's sung just about everywhere, and all sorts of venues - opera houses of various sizes, concert halls, arenas, stadiums, historic sites, and more, in a long and very successful career. But when he was interviewed in the interval (what? You surprised I watched it as soon as I got home?) he said he was really really nervous - he looked it!

Start of Act 2, and I had that feeling again - oh my god, it's Bryn Terfel! Not just because I had confidently predicted that he would cancel - there are rumours he can't hack the pressure of live telly - but because he's a superstar.

Halfway through Act 2, after that wonderful exchange between Wotan and Brunnhilde, and Wotan's monologue, we see the return of Siegmund and Sieglinde.

And suddenly, I had a completely totally girly adolescent attack of trembling hysteria. Oh. my. god!!!!! That is Plácido Domingo, my hero, on stage, and I am sat here listening to him sing, and watching him. I was nearly beside myself with trembling awe-inspired hero-worship!

My crazy fortnight and a bit is over, and nothing good is ever going to happen again - well, I'm off to see Plácido in Berlin in less than three weeks.

And there's the rest of the Proms, and some other eagerly anticipated events, too.

But my crazy 17 days in July are over, never to be forgotten. Although Live 8 seems a long time ago...

Die Walküre Prom

Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

More considered comment later...

Tonight's Prom

I am 99.9% certain that it will be broadcast with English subtitles. I rather hope it won't be like Friday's first half of the first night with a thin blue band providing extraordinarily Twuntmarshian analysis.

If there aren't automatic subtitles, there will be by pressing the red button, as will detailed programme notes, which will also be available online from 4pm.