Gertsamtkunstwerk

Proms Preview

Today sees the opening of the World's Biggest Music Festival

Between now and 10 September every evening (and some afternoons) there will be at least one concert in the Royal Albert Hall. Seats from as little as £6; top price £40. Standing for less. Some are totally sold out. Unless you want to spend all day queuing for a Promming ticket. All will be broadcast and webcast live on BBC Radio 3; many will be televised.

This is the first of an occasional series of Gert's Personal Proms recommendations.

Today is the First Night. I would be there with enthusiasm if I wasn't otherwise engaged: Berlioz
Overture - The Corsair (I don't know it);
Mendelssohn - Violin Concerto in E minor (my favourite Violin concerto, reviewed here and here.
Elgar - Overture - Cockaigne. It's a London thing.

And Tippett - A Child of Our Time, a piece I fell in love with here and revisited here. Tippett began writing A Child of Our Time in 1938 following the shooting of a German diplomat by a 17-year old Polish Jew - the retribution was the murder of Jews on Kristallnacht, and is poignantly fitting for an evening dedicated to the victims of last week's bombings. BBC1 7pm, BBC2 8pm. Big Screen in Trafalgar Square, and elsewhere. Pressing the red button will enhance your enjoyment...

Tomorrow is Gilbert and Sullivan. Having an inbuilt aversion to G&S, I shall be missing this with glee. But it's a good line-up of singers and an excellent conductor, so if you don't share my G&S allergy, it might be good. It will be shown on TV on 18 August.

Sunday is Purcell's Fairy queen, a lovely opera, based on A Midsummer Night's Dream. I would like to go, but I have a conflicting engagement.

Monday is the Prom that I am most looking forward to of all, Wagner's Die Walküre, delayed broadcast on BBC4 at 7.30pm. Absolutely top class cast, and if last Friday's performance at the Royal Opera House, and reports from Tuesday's are anything to go by, it will be a very special treat. I'm going again this afternoon, detailed review over the weekend.

The Times says

If the scenes at the Royal Opera House are anything to go by, Promenaders are in for a treat next week. Plácido Domingo, Waltraud Meier and Bryn Terfel are setting the place ablaze in Die Walküre. Domingo and Meier have to take curtain calls at the end of the first act as the audience applaud and stamp their feet. “It was pandemonium,” said one staffer. If that is what happens at the usually sedate Covent Garden, what will Promenaders do at the Walküre concert performance at the Albert Hall on Monday?

The music is lush and gorgeous - Wagner was surely the inspiration for the very best, most atmospheric film soundtracks. Oh, and did I mention there's a stellar cast? And UK Blogdom supplies one of the Valkyries, Gerhilde

Tuesday sees a pleasant-looking Prom, certainly Vaughan Williams' London Symphony (it's a London thing...). I would quite like to go, but I suspect that by Tuesday evening I might just need time to breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps I shall watch it on BBC4 from 7.30pm. Or see how I feel at about 6pm. I have a season Ticket, I can come and go as I please!

Proms Guide

I'm not quite in Proms-thinking mode yet: before they start I've got Rigoletto, Die Walküre, trip to Mother's, and Rigoletto; and before I heave my sorry arse down to SW7 there's an additional Die Walküre and a Mitridate at ROH.

But it's pretty close now, the Proms season. The Times has a Proms Handbook, which is interesting rather than useful - a guide to eating and drinking, which misses out my favourite and somewhere I have been recommeded by a trusted source (my boss) and some musical jokes, which is far from comprehensive containing, as it does, only one Beecham-ism.

An article on how diverse the programme has become in latter years and on the Blue Peter Prom, which I am wholly convinced is a jolly good thing, having had an excited review presented to me last year by the then five-year-old daughter of a friend.

Also a feature on Plácido, who's making his Proms debut two weeks today (and I shall copy-and-paste below, because of the difficulty in accessing archived Times articles)

The Proms - Official

All the events, listed by week start here -Week 1

Would like to go to first night - Child of Our Time. However, I shall be at Die Walküre at the Royal Opera House. And I know where I'd prefer to be...!

Fairy Queen - maybe, we'll see. Die Walküre. Yeah, I wouldn't mind going she says, getting increasingly hysterically excited. Berkely, Britten and Vaughan Williams looks attractive, but I suspect I might be in need of a rest by then...

Week Two - Mozart and Mahler, maybe; Mendelssohn and Vaughan Williams, ooh yes; Dream of Gerontius, yes.

Week Three - Saturday eveing looks quite fun, but is bound to be over run with children. Give that a miss. Berlioz, maybe. Sibelius and Brahms, maybe, but it's Jimmy's birthday, so probably not. Rameau and Handel - why not?

Week Four - well, I'm away that weekend, seeing Plácido in Berlin. (Did I mention I was going to see Plácido in Berlin. - you know, that could be four times in one month...you really won't get any sense out of me...); Vaughan Williams, Tippett, Holst - why not?; Songs of the Sea and Enigma Variations - yeah!; Brahms, Beethoven and Wagner - yup;

Week Five Mendelssohn and Beethoven -yes;

Week Six Tippett and Beethoven - yes; Beethoven 9 - yes; Schumann, maybe, but leave before the Stravinsky...; Julius Caesar, definitely; Ravel, Walton and Gorecki, yeah, make a night of it;

Week Seven; Rossini, Wagner and Rimsky-Korsakov, maybe...; Verdi Requiem, definitely; Wagner, Beethoven and Strauss, definitely; Missa Solemnis, definitely;

Week Eight: Lutoslawski and Brahms, maybe; Copland, Vaughan Williams and Berlioz - definitely...Symphonie Fantastique...I've got March to the Scaffold as my ringtone on my new phone...; Brahms, probably; Haydn, maybe, but leave before the Stravinsky...

Gosh, that's a lot.

Maybe I should get a promming season ticket, and decide on a day-by-day basis what to go for. Maybe go to works with which I'm unfamiliar.  I don't think I want an arena prom ticket because I'm too small to see anything. If I get a gallery ticket I think the view is unobstructed if distant. But then, would I want to, be able to, Prom for something long like, oh, you know, Die Walküre, or would it be better to try and get a ticket in the Stalls which are, you know, close to the stage...But at least a season ticket guarantees admission. Hmm, thinks about this one...

You know I'll cry if I don't get to Walküre

I've just found the Proms TV schedule Lovely, lovely BBC4.

I ♥ BBC4

Walküre live on the telly. Listen up, Bryn Terfel fans, don't even bother to buy tickets, he will pull a sickie. You can bet on it. Well, you can't, because William Hill are refusing even to take bets on it. 'Twould be best all round if the Terfel fans didn't buy tickets... ducks

Weekend TV

While we were out at the curry house I managed to record two programmes simultaneously on Sky+. Ooh, it's so exciting. One of the programmes I recorded was that night's Prom. It carried on recording after the finish, eventually giving up the ghost after about four and a half hours. I think it must have read the finish time as the finish time of the evening's second, after midnight, broadcast.

I then watched it on Saturday afternoon. I'm not sure what I think of this instant reaction that BBC4 has been running, where you can contact the programme by email or text. Friday night seemed to be just a show of national testosterone as various males - Charlie Hazlewood - metaphorically allowed their tongues to hang out at Anna Netrebko. Not surprisingly - she is a bit of a babe. And I did really like her dress. She's in Rigoletto next year, with Paolo Gavanelli, who is totally fab in the DVD of this production, and Piotr Beczala, about whom I know nothing. The other cast includes Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Rolando Villaz�n. Yum, yum...

I really enjoyed the first half - a nice mix of songs, but I found it very difficult to sit through Shostakovitch's Fifth. I'm trying, honestly, I'm trying, but...

My Lord and Master then watched Crystal Palace lose at Portsmouth. With just one point, they are firmly anchored t the bottom of the Premiership. Of course, he claims it's early yet - last season they looked like being relegated until an amazing late run.

And United are still indifferent. Indeed when Bolton went ahead in injury time I shut my ears to Final Score and deleted my text messages, so it took me half an hour to find out that David Bellion had equalised - although it was originally credited to Smith. It was good to see van Nistelrooy back, even though he looked like a duck out of water (well, makes a change from a horse, then!)

We then settled down for the Last Night of the Proms. We ate dressed crab from the fishmongers, followed by a gorgeous Rick Stein Baked Haddock with mussels and spinach, and roast potatoes. Unintentional entertainment came from Alan Titchmarsh's patronisingly stupid comments. I know Charlie Hazlewood isn't everybody's cup of tea, but his knowledge and enthusiasm is astounding. Titchmarsh assumes that the viewers are all thickos. Perhaps the dolt who put Titmarsh in the presenter's chair thinks the viewers are thickos. It always fascinates me why they put the first half on BBC2 and the second half on BBC1. That having been said, I didn't think the first half was that great a programme. Although Thomas Allen was magnificent in Vaughan Williams' songs.

The second half - accompanied by strawberry cheesecake and fresh strawberries - was to be expected. Half of me really hates it, the other half of me thinks it's all a good laugh. I do wish arseholes like Titmarsh would cut the crap about 'it's not jingoistic, it's not xenophobia, it's just rollicking good patriotism'. Just shut the fuck up Titmarsh. Please allow your viewers to make their own judgements. It's none of them, IMO. It's certainly not patriotism, which, as well as being the last refuge of the scoundrel, is a bit more than waving a flag and having a jolly good sing-song to some old familiars. I found it fun looking at all the different flags on display - as well as the Union flag (did Arsemuch call it the Union Jack - ignorant fucker), and English, Welsh and Scottish flags and the Royal Standard, I also spotted Irish, Manx, French, German, US, Australian, New Zealand, South African, Canadian, Norwegian, and Brazilian. There may have been more.

I did like Thomas Allen's little list (re-written by Kit Hesketh-Harvey) - violinists in wet t-shirts, pianists who retire just because they've got their bus pass and teenagers who can download, email and text without getting out of bed.

On Sunday, whilst eating stilton and broccoli soup, we watched the latest episode of Adam Nicholson's Atlantic Britain, which is a little gem of a TV series. This week it was mysticism in the West of Ireland. Oh did we giggle at these idiots climbing Croagh Patrick in bare feet!

We then watched - salmon en croute for me, moussaka for him, followed by a luscious sherry trifle from Tesco's Finest range - Mystic River. It took a while to get going, and it left me feeling rather uncomfortable and disturbed. I would highly recommend it if you want something a bit more than mental chewing gum. It's the second film we have watched recently starring Sean Penn, the previous being 21 Grams. 21 Grams is a very confusing film, and again, very intelligent and thought provoking. I have to say for years I have dismissed Sean Penn as the former Mr Madge with a reputation for disagreeing with photographers, but if these two films are any indication, he is becoming one of my favourite actors. Mystic River also had excellent performances from Tim Robbins, Kevin Bacon and Laurence Fishburne.

Jimmy then watched The Van, which I had taped for him a few weeks ago. I didn�t - it got just two stars in the Radio Times, and I don't watch 2 star films. It is said to be the least of Roddy Doyle's three filums. Although his watching of the film took until eight o'clock, the start time of a programme I really wanted to watch, I was unperturbed, because I had it recording in Sky+. Then, when he went to bed (and dreamed about vans), I could do a live rewind on the programme I wanted to watch, whilst also having it recorded to the hard drive. I thoroughly enjoyed Domingo - A Musical Life. I'm not divulging what my dreams were last night...

Okay, how many different categories does this post fit into...

Vespers

An echo from Venice - the Telegraph reviews Tuesday's Prom beautifully and concurs with my thoughts.

Tuesday's Prom

Monteverdi's Vespers

This time, the Guardian was at the same concert as me. Interesting thoughts on the lack of applause between songs; also on his view of there being a lack of drama and Italian passion. I wasn't expecting drama and Italian passion, but I will now think about that...

Fundamental disagreement

The Guardian was obviously at a different concert from me on Friday - Arts reviews | RPO/Gatti

Prom 56

The main reason I booked this was to hear Deborah Voigt sing Wagner's Wiesendock songs and Liebestod from T&I. Beethoven's 3rd, Eroica, was a good bet, too.

Unusually, I managed to get a ticket in the Stalls. It's a different world down there from the Circle. And I was sat amongst some curious people. The Proms is definitely Dress Down, and I was in a fleece, combat-style jeans and trainers, and I got a few disdaining looks for those dressed for a cultivated Friday night out. On my right was a couple, male and female. As I did my usual faffing, the woman said loudly, obviously for my benefit, "It clearly states no food or drink in the hall." Here we go," I thought, "Just don't start! And if you're going to make personal remarks, say it my face." Sweetly, I said, "Most venues turn a blind eye to water." The man suggested that there could be vodka in there;  I said there could, but an element of common sense prevails,  if I don't have my water, sod's law says I'll cough incessantly and disturb everyone around me, but they have to draw the line at people bringing in their beer and fish-and-chips.  The man then started going on about Prommers who spot empty seats and then grab for the interval, which is a bit 'off' when people have paid much more to sit than the �4 promming price - sneer. Back to the water, and when I mentioned that Covent Garden don't care if you take a glass bottle in, he suddenly perked up. Damn, how confusing it can be - one and the same person can actually attend Covent Garden, and also wear trainers, combat and fleece to a concert?  Zzzzzzz. He then became animated about the previous night's Prom - The Miserly Knight/Gianni Schicchi. I explained I was going to go but didn't - something cropped up. the woman said she found it amazing that the singers managed to remember the Russian - Italian, yes, but Russian, no. I thought of saying "Yeah, I bet Sergei Leiferkus has tremendous problems with the Russian..." but decided instead to say "Yes, I saw it on the TV a few weeks ago, I know Sergei Leiferkus was in the cast, and I think it was the same last night."

"Oh we didn't really notice the cast," said the bloke. "Was it on the TV?"  asked the man, "we must have missed it..." "BBC4," I explained, confident in being an ex-anti-digital-snob but now enjoying BBC4, Artsworld, Performance Channel (un po') and Interactive Olympics (and who has now booked an upgrade to Sky+...).

The woman in front was really strange. During the first piece, Hindemith's Concert Music for Strings and Brass, Opus 50, nothing special, did nothing to grab me..., she started caressing her man and saying "I love you" repeatedly but not tenderly, more at the urgent temp we use after a row or when trying desperately to reassure.

She was very strange, and I don't mean that nastily. She had a very pronounced Essex-Hertfordshire accent - think Posh Spice but more so. But what was so bizarre was she seemed to speak entirely on a monotone, with no inflection, no variation in pace, rhythm, or volume. Very strange...

After the Hindemith, Deborah Voigt appeared, to enthusiastic response, looking very good in a black dress. Perhaps more of an evening dress than a cocktail dress, but pretty close to a black cocktail dress, IMO. She sang Wagner's Wesendock Songs. I thought I didn't know them, but I certainly know Der Engel, and  Tra�me is familiar from Tristan und Isolde. I thought she sang them well, but I didn't sense any great emotional input - sort of singing the phone book, but singing the phone book delightfully.

Then followed the (orchestral) prelude from Tristan und Isolde, which was...okay, followed by 'Liebestod', which was just marvellous. Gorgeousness. With a lot of Wagner I could happily listen to the orchestra part alone. This was the orchestral high point of the evening. However, the orchestra was nothing compared to Debbie, especially she soared into and caressed the high notes which rang out sweet and, well, beautiful (and I'm not even a 'high notes' fan...), and she was so obviously blissing out in the music, and thoroughly deserved the very enthusiastic and sustained applause.

I was slightly distracted for a split second during the Liebestod when a woman four rows in front turned to say something to her companion. I was startled; later I reflected with bemusement - what is so urgent that it can't wait just a few moments until the closing chord. And how can anybody possibly break off from listening to that sublime music? Perhaps  the sound of an orchestra approaching orgasm is just too much for them, perhaps they are so afraid of their own repressed sexuality.

Incidentally, it is said that when Gustav Mahler conducted Tristan und Isolde he sustained an erection throughout and climaxed during the Liebestod. Now, I know back then, orchestras were all male, and the orchestral pit is dimly lit, but I'm not sure I would have wanted to be on the front row of the second violins. I mean, really...

As people stood up for the interval Monotone in front of me said, in a dead monotone to her husband "Five hours is a long time for an opera but for that...Even you'd enjoy it. I would love to see a performance of that opera, but there's none in the next year. Or The Meistersinger. It's a comedy but the music is lovely." I was fascinated that somebody with such an obvious love of and passion for music can have such a lack of music in her voice.

There was a trio behind me. They loudly declared that they don't go anywhere in the interval - perhaps they have become too familiar before with Chateau de Chunder from the Albert Hall's very own vineyards...One of the women asked "Who was that singing?" The man replied, "Deborah Voigt - she's been on the radio..."  I recommended a CD - Wagner Love Duets, explaining it had Deborah singing the Love Duets from Siegfried and from Tristan und Isolde, and it's on EMI Classics. The man asked who's she singing with them. I said, "Plácido Domingo".  The man smiled and wink and said "Say no more." I thought "Am I that obvious?"

During the interval, it seemed that half of everybody was desperately wapping, and the word soon spread round "Paula dropped out," accompanied by widespread disappointment.

I was a bit bored in the second half. You can't really go wrong with Beethoven, I thought.

Wrong! It was insipid. The strings were mushy. When I listen to string heavy orchestral music I want to hear the bowing of the strings. It's a bit worrying when you can barely see the bowing. Maybe I've fallen victim of the Campaign to Abolish Vibrato, and I like my notes defined, but this wasn't so much vibrato, but just one long elision. I'm not saying that I was writhing and groaning in pain in my seat, but it just didn't grab me.

And when it was finished Mrs Monotone said "I didn't like that. Did you like that? I thought I loved that piece. You know, I'm going to have to play it all weekend,
because I know I love it. That wasn't right."

The orchestra was Royal Phil under Daniele Gatti.

Rheingold review

Simon Rattle's Ring of truth, finding the words I abjectly failed to do on Thursday,

Prom 39

I never got round to writing a review of Berlioz, Saint-Saens and Vienna which I attended last Saturday. The Guardian sums my feelings perfectly. It was enjoyable, but nothing special. The Berlioz, actually, was crap, the programme note being a greater work of art that thrilled me more than the actual music.

Jimmy enjoyed the second half - Vienna - but didn't think much of the first. Admittedly, we had bad seats - circle, on the extreme right end, with half of our view obscured by the acoustic canopy. Th eorgan was less exciting than any other outing this year.

In the Ladies afterwards were a mother and daughter (late teens) just in front of me. It was their first Prom; I suspect it may have been the daughter's first 'proper' concert. They were enthusiastic in their use of superlatives. I was thinking "Gosh your expectations are low..." but I'm not a nasty person, so I said, "You know, when you've been once it becomes habit forming..." The daughter looked at me with awe and asked "Are you going to every one?" "No," I replied. "About ten or twelve..." Actually it's nine, or eight if you exclude the one I skived.

But it's more than habit forming. It's addictive...

Das Rheingold

First in an occasional series of reviews. Well, four to be exact. The final one will occur in 2007. Tonight was the opening night of the first ever Proms Ring Cycle. And there was a palpable buzz around the place. For ease of reference, when I link back over the next three years I have put cast details in the Extended Entry.

I arrived quite early and went up to the circle, thinking, get drink, read programme, etc. A young steward challenged me in quite a confrontational way. "Where are you going?" "The bar" I said in that questioning sardonic way. "It's over there," he said, pointing in the direction I was heading. "I know," I replied. Did I look like a trouble maker?

Halfway through I saw a group of about half a dozen teenagers being shepherded out of the Arena (prom area) by a steward. I was perplexed. They did look a bit young to have come to a concert performance of a Wagner opera without parents. But it didn't appear that they were causing trouble. And, I assume, they must have paid to get in. Strange.

I also saw quite a few adults leave at various stages of the evening. I suppose if you have another engagement to attend it's better to go to half a concert than none. but I can't imagine that so many people had nine o'clock engagements. They didn't look like the type. Quite how they'll cope with Walkürie, Siegfried and Götterdammerung, twice the length of this, a mere prelude, I don't know. And rubbishy comments about the difficulty of Wagner. Rheingold is so accessible, so lyrical, so orchestrally lush, so beautiful. I'm waiting impatiently for my Covent Garden Rheingold tickets .

The performance. I was thoroughly impressed by it. A good ensemble of singers, all of whom projected above the orchestra clearly into the Circle. I had a wonderful time changing my mind about which voice type I like best. Through the course of the evening I had a preference for all the voices on offer. And again I conclude I like the contralto voice the most - Erda is a contralto, and Fricka a dramatic mezzo, but Yvonne Naef is listed as contralto.

Funny that, because I don't think any of my favourite female singers are contraltos, and I think counter-tenor is my least favourite. Or maybe heldentenor is really my favourite, Certainly Loge is the best part in this opera and Kim Begley was excellent. Probably the best perfomer overall was Oleg Bryjak as Alberich. Willard White as Wotan sounded wonderful but sang the role as straight concert, which was a shame. In fact, there wasn't a weakest link, at all.

There is something about this music that just gets to me every time. Especially the Finale to Scene 4 which gave me goosepimples and sent something rushing through my bloodstream, And I finished up by crying - not because of the story or drama but because of the music. That's not really me, you know.

It was interesting to see some period instruments, but I'm not sure, other than a gimmick, what they actually added to the performance. I very much liked Simon Rattle's use of tempi - some bits fair galloped by, but he slowed down the tempo when it was right to do so.

It's a shame that Radio 3 isn't doing it as Listen Again, nor as a repeated one. Whereas, they're doing both for the one I went to last Saturday, which was...disappointing.

I can't wait until January (or December) when I see it at Covent Garden. In the meantime, Siegfried at ENO; and next year will, presumably, include Gotterdammerung at ENO in the early Spring followed by a run* of Walküries - one Spring and three July (From my mouth to God's ears) at Covent Garden, and a Summer one at the Proms.

*I suppose that ought to be a ride, but I'm only counting five, a bit short, I think.

Update: Excellent Observer Review, with which I largely concur...

Review of Britten's War Requiem

Anthony Holden says How much more appropriate it would be for the Last Night of the Proms this year, and indeed every year, than the jingoistic flag-waving which perennially puts this nation to shame. I say "Hear hear" heartily.

Also contains a review of Barenboim's West-Eastern Divan

one couldn't help thinking that Sharon and Arafat should be made to sit side-by-side through one of their concerts and then start talking.

Britten and Taverner

More on last night's Proms. This should be read in conjunction with the previous post.

I am fairly familiar with Britten's War Requiem, but don't have it in my collection, and it's been a while since I heard it.

It combines the structure of a standard requiem with the poetry of Wilfred Owen, and was written for the consecration of the new Coventry Cathedral in 1962. Incidentally, there's a performance at the Royal Festival Hall on 8 May - VE Day - next year.

Although fundamentally irreligious, I am a sucker for religious music. I really can't praise the War Requiem highly enough. Some contemplative passages are contrasted with some passionate, loud parts. As I mentioned in the previous post, the Libera Me especially got to me. The ensemble is quite something - a full adult choir on stage, and a children's chorus ethereal in the organ stalls. And the orchestra! Lots of percussion! I was fascinated by the layout - down at the front, was a timpanist/bass drummer who occasionally also doubled as tam tam player. There was another set of timpani, another bass drum, side drums, castanets, two xylophones, and, if I recall correctly, tubular bells as well. And the organ.

And the soloists. Below, I don't really mention the soprano. Musically, she was fine, with a rich voice. But I much preferred the male soloists. I realise that below, I may seem harsh on Simon Keenlyside - that was only because my expectations were so high. And also, in my view he was simply not as good as Ian Bostridge. But they worked excellently as a duo, enunciated the words well, and seemed to understand and to want to project the meaning of Wilfred Owen's words.

It seemed clear to me that a fair proportion of the audience had come either to hear Simon, or regarded him as an added bonus. As he stood up for his first solo, you could feel the excitement round the hall. Ladies fanned themselves more vigorously, and as one the circle reached for their opera glasses. (Well, not me, I'd left mine at home...)

I was intrigued afterwards, when getting some air before the Taverner, to go to the stage door to find a teenage girl (and her Mum) waiting with excitement for Sir Colin Davis. She seemed to be holding back, just wanting a picture. It struck me later that if she had gone up to him and said "I'm a really big fan of yours" I'm sure he would have been at least civil, and probably more, because most sensible musicians are only too keen to encourage youngsters.

The Taverner was something quite different again, making the Britten look positively traditional. I suppose it helps that you know Taverner is semi-mystic, and a convert to Greek Orthodoxy, which tends to permeate most of his music. The production was semi-staged, sort of in the round, with some performers on stage, some on a centre stage where the fountain normally goes, and some at the back of the prom area. The eighth and final cycle had singers standing on all the Stalls stairs. Someone on the bus described being in the Prom area as being in the middle of a celestial tennis match. And I partly got that feeling from the Stalls.

The musical mainstay was the organ, played by James Vivian, who didn't stop for the two and three quarter hours of the performance, except during the recitatives. Other instruments used were mainly percussion - tubular bells, tam tams, and three Tibetan drums. These were all played by teenagers. There were also a dudak (an Armenian double reed instrument) and Tibetan horns. For the final cycle, horns and timpani were added.

Although Taverner is incredibly modern, the melodies were exquisitely soaring, especially in the repeated use of the Kyrie leeso�, el�is�n me. I don't suppose even the full concert version, let alone the vigil will be oft performed, which is a shame. For me, and, judging by the conversations overheard on the way out, for others, the bits to be cut should be the long gospel recitatives. Whether that will happen, I don't know, for theological reasons. I have to confess that my mind wondered a bit, especially during the tenor's recitative in Cycle 7. This lasted for about twenty or twenty five minutes, and, I hasten to add, was splendidly executed by Simon Wall - twenty five minutes of unaccompanied plainchant must be horrendously difficult. But for my concentration span, twenty five minutes is just too long!

The majority of voices used were male, although Cycles One and Eight included a soprano (Patricia Rozario) with a challenging part well delivered. I particularly liked the soaring female voices in the choral bits. At the end, the soloists and conductor (Stephen Layton) processed off, followed by Sir John Taverner himself (he is one tall man!), followed by the choruses, and finally, by the audience, who were a little non-plussed at the direction to process off after the performers. Especially as many of us headed straight for the toilets, perhaps a rather prosaic ending to an experience I shall remember for a very long time.

Two rubbish photos taken at the end of the Requiem give some indication of the visuals. I wish I had taken some for the Taverner, because it was visually quite something, and I had a Stalls seat, but, without curtain calls, there wasn't really an appropriate moment.

Principals and Albert Hall

Interview with Taverner.

Update: Two things I forgot to mention: at the end of the War Requiem, there was total silence. Colin Davis stood there holding the baton, and the entire hall sat holding its breath, or in quiet contemplation. After many minutes, Sir Colin lowered the baton, and the audience erupted in enthusiastic and sustained applause.

I think the Taverner should have had some incense.

update Telegraph review

Proms 22 and 23

I was at Britten's War Requiem this evening: Susan B. Anthony, Ian Bostridge, Simon Keenlyside, LSO, LSC, Colin Davis.

Really fab - I got an amazing goosebump moment in the Libera Me - never before experienced goosebumps like that: the 'Voice of Jupiter' booming over full orchestra and chorus. The hairs on my arms literally stood up, and I went cold and hot again. Amazing. Ian Bostridge, who I've never really previous liked very much was wonderful - it was as if he managed to combine the purity of a choirboy with the robustness of a tenor, and I have never heard such a perfect messa di voce. Simon Keenlyside, of whom I am a fan, was disappointing. He sounded phlegmy on some low notes - not necessarily the lowest, and he seemed to be straining for the high notes. Perhaps he had an allergy. Opera singers seem a pretty allergic bunch.

But it seems so long ago because this was followed by the world permiere of the concert version of John Taverner's The Veil of the Temple. It came in at just under three hours - the non-concert version premiered from dusk to dawn on 27 June last year.

As I took my seat, I wondered what I had let myself in for. I was mentally preparing my blog entry - John Taverner is an acquired taste; I wish to acquire it, but haven't yet. Scrub that - it was extraordinary, unique and wonderful.

Sadly, it seems, neither are being repeated over the air or are available on Listen to Again. I may well send a sweetly worded begging email to Radio 3.

More detail tomorrow. But bed calls me now!

I want to slag the BBC off

It's just a small thing. But, to me, important. When I was at school, all those years ago, we studied Schumann. I was fascinated by Schumann, and, as well as the lessons in school, I read a biography of him. Since then, whenever I've spotted something about him in a magazine or newspaper, I've read it.

I know quite a lot about Schumann, one way or the other - Eusebius and Florestan, the Davidsbündler vs The Philistines etc. I also know a little about his health. According to the interactive Proms Notes on BBC4 this evening he gave up his career as a pianist because of a 'hand injury' and then spent the last few years of his life suffering from depression, before being admitted to a lunatic asylum and dying as a result of his mental illness.

Well, it wasn't a 'hand injury', it was syphillitic stiff fingers. And it wasn't 'depression' and 'mental illness' - well, it was, but it was caused by syphillis. Maybe just a minor point, of interest only to the prurient. However, arguably, an important footnote, because so many 19th Century geniuses were inspired to great works before the lucidity of syphillis was superceded by the lunacy. So, it was factually incorrect to skip over this 'detail'.

I was thinking of sending an email of complaint about unnecessary euphemising. Then I realised that this evening's Prom was produced by Bridget Caldwell, one of the most amazing people I have ever met. A true star, the most glamorous starry person in my entire school. Two years above me, she was the star of music and drama, and had the chutzpah to play the piano very badly (but in that bad way where you need to be good to do it) before and after Assembly on April Fools Day. Despite her glamour and star status, she was totally adorable - and the two old school friends I had dinner with the other week agreed emphatically. I think I even had a very brief crush on her after the foreign language choir for Open Evening at the end of my fourth year, her Lower Sixth.

I suppose I could send her an email personally complaining, emphasising that I'm only repeating what Mrs Bm told my O-Level Music group. But, somehow it seems churlish. And I'm pleased to see she's producing the Proms - no doubt she did a sterling job with Blue Peter and Children in Need, but Bridget and the Proms - lovely lovely music and an absence of stuffiness.

Prom 4 - English composers

The ones that dies in 1934.

BBC National Orchestra of Wales; the Bach Choir; BBC National Chorus of Wales; Choir of St Paul's Cathedral. Conducted by Richard Hickox.

The bloke next to me commented on the irony of having a predominantly Welsh line-up playing English music.

We started with Elgar's Cockaigne, a gorgeous and jolly piece of music. From the programme:

The mythical kingdom of ‘Cockaigne’ was long famous in French legend as an imaginary land of luxury and idleness, where the houses were made of barley sugar, the streets paved with pastry, and the shops gave everything away for free. But in the 19th century it became adopted as a name for London, by punning reference to the word ‘Cockney’. When Elgar’s overture was first played in Latin America the programmenote writerused his own imagination and stated confidently that the piece ‘portrayed the terrible ravages of the drug [cocaine] in the East End of London’!

Next came Delius's Sea Drift. When I booked the ticket - indeed when I received my prospectus - I knew it would be the worst bit of the concert. In the event, it wasn't too bad, although I couldn't really find anything especially likeable, and there was nothing memorable about the music. It's set to words by Walt Whitman, not a poet about which I know anything, really, but I am tempted to explore more. The baritone was Thomas Hampson. This is the second time I have seen him now, and, I'm sorry, I just can't see what makes him a sex symbol. Also, I found it interesting to realise how much louder and clearer he sounded in the cheap seats at Covent Garden than in the Royal Albert Hall (which has twice the capacity of the ROH). I really must get my ears syringed! I'm going to take advantage of Radio 3's Listen Again to, er, listen again!

After the interval was an unfamiliar but moving piece - Holst's Hymn of Jesus. Amazing - it used three choirs, including a small male chorus right up in the Gods - almost literally - and there was a splendid organ accompaniment, too. I won't describe the music in detail - the programme notes are available online and the actual concert is re-broadcast on Wednesday afternoon and is available as webcast on demand until next Monday. Okay, I'm a sucker for oratorio-like things, but this is definitelyone piece I shall be wanting to hear again.

I hereby award Gustav Holst my prestigious "Man of the Week" award.

We finished with the exquisite Enigma Variations by Elgar. I think we all know it - especially Nimrod. As that came to a close you could hear a pin drop. (Except for the girl in front who was engrossed in her Harry Potter book. she looked far too old to be reading Harry Potter,and, frankly, by her age, 12-14, she should have been making a bit of an effort to the listen to the music, or, at least, not distracting her mother...). And we had more organ in the closing variation.

I was again pleased to see - as on Saturday (save for the pyrotechnical 1812) the audience waited until the conductor lowered his baton before applauding. Why can't people do that at the Colisseum at RFH, I wonder.

My next few Proms are going to be via BBC4. Tomorrow night, at 7.30, we have the World Premier of a piece "The Immortal" by Zhou Long, followed by Liszt's Paino Concerto #2 in A and R. Strauss's Alpine Symphony. Programme notes should be available online from about 5.30pm.

Update: I wasn't the only blogger there...

Guardian review

Like having sex...

In life we have many experiences, where it is difficult to distinguish the physical from the emotional. Tonight I had a wonderful new experience. And what is so exciting, I'm on a promise for a repeat in a few weeks time.

Wow, girls! I have never felt anything like that monster vibrating between my legs, that amazing organ beating against my thighs, the physical sensation of that masterful tool.

And the Royal Albert Hall organ was not being played at full throttle. Roll on the Saint-Saëns...!

Proms reviews

The First Night/The Nation's Favourite in the Guardian
Nicholas Kenyon talks about the Proms - mentioning that it's only £4 to stand. Four quid - some bars in central London charge that for a glass of wine!

Giant organ tunes up for world's biggest music festival says the Independent, which recommends Rattle conducting Das Rheingold, and Monteverdi's Vespers, both of which I've got tickets for, and ALfred Brendel, which I tried, but failed to get a ticket.

We heard a bit of the organ on Saturday night. The interval feature on BBC2 on Friday night on the rebuilding of the organ was fascinating. Also, bringing in a music-loving Astronomer - Heather Couper - to preview Holst's planets was inspired.

Incidentally, I know Heather Couper from Saturday Morning Children's TV. I'm tempted to say way back when, but I think I actually mean early to mid-Nineties, when Saturday Superstore was de rigeur for any intelligent twenty-something.

Over the years, Swap Shop and Super Store, as well as featuring the latest in teen pop culture always managed to have an intelligent element - Heather Couper on Astronomy, Delia Smith on cooking, Paula Danziger (who, sadly, died a couple of weeks ago) on books. I remember Edward Heath on the Brandt report. Lots on Environmental issues, History, Geography, Architecture, Engineering. Interviews with leading politicians. All interspersed with cartoons, goofy games, and videos of/interviews with the latest teen pop sensation. And more established, less transient pop musicians. Even a bit of Classical.

I don't think it's because I'm old and jaded, but their successor programmes have dumbed down so much they are an insult to the nation's children. Only the cartoons and the latest talentless manufactured pre-teen pop phenomenom remain. It makes me angry that arrogant patronising tossers are now in charge of such output. I don't think we ever felt we were being lectured to in a dull but worthy way. I certainly know my parents were happy to have the TV on for three hours on a Saturday morning, knowing that as we drifted in and out, we were being entertained, but also educated.

I suppose they think that children today won't be interested, but I know that my nephew loves Blue Peter almost as much as The Simpsons, is not averse to intelligent adults' telly, and is an inveterate googler

/rant.

Back to the Proms. I'm off to Holst/Elgar/Delius tonight, and will provide a review tomorrow morning. It's being shown on delayed relay at 7.30 pm on BBC4 tonight, so watch it and decide just how much claptrap I talk!

Prom 2

On Saturday night we went to the Royal Albert Hall for 'The Nation's Favourite Prom'. I was a little surprised to read in the prgramme that it was only the Halle's 3rd visit to the Henry Wood series. I  attended so many Halle Proms in the 70s & 80s. Incidentally, I have been to their concerts in the Free Trade Hall, The Bridgewater Halll, Nottingham's Royal Concert Hall and now the Albert Hall, which may be a fairly unusual achievement.

You know, the Royal Albert Hall is one spectacular building.  It looks impressive on the TV, but in the flesh it is stunning - this masive sweep of an auditorium. And our tickets were only ten pounds each.

There had been a vote to establish the favourite overture of the nation. The programme began with the second favourite, Le Nozze di Figaro. I was dismayed that it seemed so quiet - we were high up and in the wings, plus I need my ears syringing. Nevertheless, it is a lovely piece, and what I would have voted for if I had got round to it.

Next, Jonathan Lemalu sang a couple of Mozart's arias: Figaro's Non più andrai, and Madamina, il catalogo è questo. The former is one of my desert island arias; I also enjoy the latter. I had mixed feelings about Jonathan Lemalu. I rather liked his voice and he seemed to have considerable dramatic credibility, but the Albert Hall is a formidable space, and I didn't feel that he yet has the instrument to fill it - he's 28.

Mark Elder gave an introductory talk to the next piece, Delius's Walk to the Paradise Garden. He did make some reference to Delius not being universally popular, to some laughter in the arena, and I certainly am no fan. Still it was impressive to wach the orchestra, which, by this point, had grown to include eight double basses.

The final piece before the interval was the deeply familiar Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, with Louis Lortie on piano. Such a familiar piece, and a pleasant piece, but strangely, it seemed to drag. Jimmy really loved it, and we had the added bonus of an almost birds' eye view of the piano keyboard.

After the interval, Mark Elder issued a Health and Safety warning for the final piece. He mentioned cannon shot, so had the programme. There were also notices outside the auditorium. I was very excited, because although I have a video indoors of cannon, I have never been to a live performance of it.

But, first the Nation's favourite overture, the Lone Ranger William Tell, by Rossini. It is a wonderful piece, and although it was presented as a fun piece it did make me ponder my preconceptions of Rossini.

Jonathan Lemalu returned to sing two arias from Gounod's Faust and one from Boito's Mefistofele. I was more impressed by these than by the Mozart. I enjoyed the music of his voice, and even more the drama and dark nature. I visualised him as a future Iago or Scarpia - two of the villians of opera.

And to the final piece, Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. I just so love that piece, especially the contrasts between the lyrical and belligerent passages, a lively orchestra, under a lively conductor. And two bursts of pyrotechnical explosions. Despite my excitement, they made me jump, and I ended up clinging scared to Jimmy. I still enjoyed the final flourish of fireworks. I normally deplore applause that begins before the conductor lowers his baton, but I joined in the spontaneous delight at the pyrotechnics. I suppose it's all psychologically important in healing my firework-phobia!

We happened to be on the Tube with Brian from my ward Labour Party and his partner Sharon. They were waxing lyrical, especially about the Tchaik. At the bar they had bumped into the Vice-Chair from the school where Brian's Chair of Governors!

The concert - presumably edited highlights - will be shown next Sunday on BBC1.

Proms

I have spent some time perusing the guide for the BBC Proms. And I remembered why I never go. It seems that a really enticing piece is always teamed with something by a composer I really don't like, or really don't know. I know it's jolly worthy - by being enticed in by one delightful piece, you get to know the unfamiliar piece, too. But sometimes, life is just too short.

Out of 74, I have ticked (rather than annotated with a question mark) just seven. Two of those are on Jimmy's birthday, and I am sure he really wants to spend his birthday listening to Britten and Taverner at the RAH. Other ticks include Smetana/Mahler; Brahms and Beethoven (but sandwiched by 14 minutes of Harrison Birtwhistle ouch); a concert performance of Das Rheingold (including Willard White and Yvonne Naef, and conducted by Simon Rattle - the other three - Die Walkure, Siegfried and Gotterdammerung will follow in 2005-2007 - so, that's three separate Rings going on in London)*; Dvorak and Schumann, but also Chopin; and Deborah Voight singing Wagner, with a Beethoven 3 in the second half.

Question marks have been awarded where Mozart is teamed with Vejvanovsky, Myslivecik, Martinu and Novak (4 x who); Dvorak, Schumann and Saint-Saens, but with the conductor I took an intense dislkie to at the Barbican the other week; Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique teamed up with Peter Mazwell Davies (no, no, no); Mozart and Mahler, teamed with 22 minutes of Janacek in Czech; Mahler's Das Lied van der Erde, because it's preceded by something by Berio, of whom I know nothing, except that he died last year. I've also question-marked a Monteverdi and a Mozart/Bruckner double-bill. Maybe they should be ticked.

I've rejected Musorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov beause they are followed by Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, which I can't stand.

I'm terribly provincial in my tastes, I think. Middle England. Classic FM. I probably need educating. But WTF. I can always listen to the concerts on the Third Programme and block out the unwanted.

If anybody fancies teaming up, you know my email address...

* I'm desperately in need of an umlaut.