Gertsamtkunstwerk

3 Anniversary Proms

My recent reports from concerts attended have been neither timely nor insightful. I really must get my finger out, especially when I look at my diary for the first fortnight in October which will have six highly reviewable nights out.

The Proms has  so many varied concerts in quick succession, it is impossible for me to attend even a fraction, and thus I don't get the full sense of being immersed in the Festival. It is also quite difficult to choose which I should go to - there were some obvious vocal highlights which became 'must see' for me, but I declined to go many solely instrumental concerts where only part of the programme appealed.

I really should not apologise for only attending a handful of Proms. I have always been a little bit scared of 'completism', that macho need to demonstrate to everybody that you have gone to every single home match, or bought every record, including the 7", the 7" EP and the 12".

I am not alone in believing that the more you consume, the less satisfied you become. It's almost like a drug, that you need more and more highs just to make it feel worthwhile. Whereas, the infrequent concert goer is going to get pleasure irrespective of duff notes, below par singers, and uninspired conducting. Which, I hasten to add, is not a cue for my report on the three concerts I haven't yet mentioned. Well, apart from the uninspired conducting (and I don't mean Harry Christophers).

The three concerts as yet unreported on are the Harry Christophers/Sixteen/Carolyn Sampson Handel evening; the Roger Norrington/ Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment/Joyce DiDonato celebration of the four anniversary boys; and Iestyn Davies/Academy of Ancient Music celebrating Purcell.

Of the three I suspect that the all-Handel evening will linger longest in my mind, although the Purcell, being so very recent (Monday lunchtime, the final chamber Prom) is currently uppermost. And, certainly, if I was ranking singers this season, it would be hard pushed to choose between Carolyn and Iestyn, both of whom I was lucky enough to see twice. I suppose I don't like Carolyn's post-baby voice as much as I did her before-baby voice, but I think I should reserve judgement - it's less than a year since she had the baby. Iestyn is just a phenomenon, an unbelievably beautiful voice, just amazing.

I do so want to like Joyce DiDonato. My intellect can admire and respect her tremendously, but I am not emotionally touched by her. When people write about her technical ability and musical understanding and vocal wealth, I cannot disagree. But she doesn't affect me the way some other singers do.

That having been said, she was the highlight of a somewhat dismal evening that tried to combine pieces from Purcell,  Handel and Haydn in the first half and in the second half had Mendelssohn's lush romantic Scottish Symphony somewhat ruined by (to me) irrelevant period instruments and an unengaged interpretation by Roger Norrington, who wasn't so much stick-waving as drowning. I'm sorry, but I found him intensely annoying, which marred the evening for me. It is said that if you notice the conductor, there's a problem.

The Handel evening was exquisite. Unfortunately,  it was the only concert where I was seated up in the Circle, way too high up really to appreciate the intimate sound of the Sixteen, and not ideal for hearing Carolyn Sampson, who prefers nuanced subtlety to vulgar bellowing.

The concert programme was a mixture of the familiar and pieces that I have seldom heard. The highlight was Carolyn's arias from Semele - Endless Pleasure and Myself I Shall Adore.

She embraced the character of Semele as a rather vacuous hedonist blonde, although this was lost to me in my lofty seat - it came across more convincingly on TV.

Two very different arias. Endless Pleasure could almost be a convincing pop song (hmm, now that's the sort of crossover I'd be interested in, if done intelligently and with fidelity to the composer's intentions).

Myself I Shall Adore presents plenty of opportunity for ornamentation and Carolyn did not shirk. In such a concert performance - more than in staged opera - the singer can have great fun with crazy embellishments full of flourish. I was a little concerned to hear a darkening at the top of her range. I hope that she isn't going to become too heavy, although I will have to accept it if that's where her voice is going.

Other highlights were the pieces I know best - Arrival of the Queen of Sheba and the last of the four Coronation Anthems, Zadok the Priest. I was surprised at how unfamiliar the other three were. I am confident that once I am familiar with them, I will enjoy them more.

I'm afraid the organ concerto did little for me. The programme explained that it was written as incidental music, and that's exactly how it came across. The Handel-era organ works superbly in small intimate venues; in the Albert Hall I want the big booming glorious monster with 9,999 pipes.

The final Chamber Music Prom was my first ever. Iestyn Davies was superb, both in Purcell songs - especially Sweeter than Roses - and in John Blow's Ode on the Death of Mr Henry Purcell. The tenor, Simon Wall, was less convincing but did not mar my enjoyment.

What I like about Iestyn - and what initially draws me to all the best counter-tenors - is the purity of his voice, the exquisite breath control, lyricism of line, and splendid legato. What keeps me fascinated by him, and not by the rest, is the rich tapestry of colours, the variation in tone, dynamics and emphasis, and the occasional hints of baritonal splendour (yet never coming out of the counter-tenor mode).

I have written several times of his impressive stage presence. In Partenope or Samson, he becomes the character and communicates this to the audience. A different setting called for a different behaviour; he showed that he understood the words (which is to be expected!) and also that he grasped the thoughts and sentiments that inspired them and understood how the music reflected them.

I enjoyed the small baroque ensemble from the Academy of Ancient Music, in the purely instrumental pieces and when they were working with the singers.

Parenthetically, a small bugbear: Suzy Klein interviewed their leader, Richard Egarr, who proudly announced that the first thing he sang 'at Cambridge' was a 'fart' that was the start of a Henry Purcell's song not suitable for daytime broadcasting. I don't know why so many people who happened to have studied, often decades ago, at Cambridge University (or Oxford) seem compelled to drop this fact into almost every conversation; it would seem quite strange and very tedious, a sign of arrested maturation, for someone in their 40s and 50s to constantly harp on about how they did student-like things as a student at Neasden Polytechnic in the 1980s.

I enjoyed my Proms season, and feel I got a lot out of what I attended, even those concerts that did not reach my expectations. There were several concerts I would have surely enjoyed if I had attended them, but I didn't, and I do not regret that.

I write this after the Last Night, an unrepresentative nadir, of an otherwise excellent series. Sadly, it is only the second half of this last night that gets any attention from BBC1; there are people who believe (and blog or twitter thus) that this is all the Proms represents. The small proportion that does get broadcast gets shunted into the ghetto on BBC4, or dumbed down into ever-moving slots on BBC2.

Clearly, anyone who wants to see the broadcasts can switch channels or set the recording device of choice, but the BBC sends out a clear message in its choice of channel, timing and cuts. I feel certain that during the 2010 World Cup, every single match will be televised, most of them live on BBC1 (or ITV1), and the less attractive group stages will at least be available through the red button or transmitted in the early hours. The BBC will be proclaiming - this event is important enough to disrupt our normal scheduling, whether or not you want that.

I believe it has been demonstrated numerous times that a significant number of people, at least some of the time, watch what is provided for them, without actually making a positive choice. The BBC doesn't have the courage to engineer the viewing of their Proms in the same way they do for snooker or celebrity-reality TV.

NB For all three concerts, and all the other Prom concerts reported on,  I purchased the tickets myself; they were not provided free by the venues or organisers.

Return o God of hosts

This is currently competing as an earworm alongside Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights*

The exquisitely lovely Iestyn Davies singing in what will undoubtedly be the highlught of my Proms season and one of my highlights of 2009 (although I do have one Prom left to attend...)

I just think that Iestyn Davies has an extraordinary voice, superb musicality, and that certain je ne sais quoi (the X factor) that strongly indicates that he is very much a star in the ascendancy - he's 30 in a couple of weeks.

* Last night, ITV1 showed the first part of a two-part dramatisation of Wuthering Heights. I find that whenever WH is mentioned, I immediately think of Kate Bush's song, which I consider to be a very great song, that captures the essence of the novel

Fidelio Prom

Last week's key word was Freude*, Joy, this week, Freiheit, Freedom, both of them redolent of Enlightenment idealism.

It does not require the presence of the West-Eastern Divan orchestra under Daniel Barenboim, nor a performance with a narration written by the late Edward Said (the orchestra's co-founder) to underline the universal relevance of the message.

For those that don't know, 'Fidelio' is the name Leonore adopts to work under-cover in a prison where she believes her husband Florestan is held as a political prisoner. The prison governor, his political enemy, wishes Florestan killed. Leonore finds him deep in the dungeon and they are reunited, however briefly; the King's Minister arrives and orders the release of the political prisoners.

Reading Twitter after the event, the use of the narrative, delivered by Waltraud Meier, was not popular. I liked that it was succinct, and, in the absence of any staging, it made a lot of sense to do away with the dialogue, which, even when fully staged, detracts from my appreciation of the work. There was criticism that while the opera was sung in German, the narration was spoken in English. Although I sympathise with those who find this inconsistent, again, for me, it worked

This performance had been a hot tip/hot ticket for this year's season. I was eager to hear Waltraud Meier who does not appear often in London - the last time  heard her here was in Die Walküre four years ago; I did also her as Sieglinde in Barcelona last year. This was the first time I have heard her live as anything but Sieglinde.

It took me a long time to become a Fidelio fan, although not for want of trying, but I think the effort has been worthwhile. I first saw it many years ago, as an Opera North production in Nottingham. I have a CD, conducted by Daniel Barenboim, and with Waltraud Meier too, but despite an extraordinarily strong cast, this has never really caught my imagination. A splendid concert performance at the Barbican three years ago, under Colin Davis (not Haitink as I stated to several people on Saturday evening) really brought it to life for me; a lacklustre performance at ROH did not diminish my enthusiasm, and, as I wrote at length a while back, there are some decent complete performances available.

I do not think that Saturday's performance will erase my memories of the Davis/LSO, also available on CD, but it was a glorious, enjoyable and worthwhile night. I could find little fault with the orchestra and was pleasantly surprised by Barenboim's shaping of the piece. The chorus was excellent - the combined BBC Singers and Geoffrey Mitchell Choir -although insufficiently large to fill the Albert Hall in the way that the LSO Chorus and ROH superb men's chorus had filled their respective venues in the key choral moments. But the Prisoners' Chorus was nevertheless a highlight

Waltraud Meier did not disappoint. Her spoken narration was precise in enunciation and warm in tone, and her singing was exquisite. Not the loudest of voices, I struggled sometimes to hear her above the orchestra, but that may have been a result of having the fifth seat in a four seat box ie located behind the curtain. She is compelling on stage and she was particularly impressive in her great aria and in duet with Adriana Kučerová  as Marzelline. However, overall I did not find her Leonore to be the match of her Sieglinde, a role in which she reigns supreme.

Adriana aside - she sang with a brilliant and clear voice - the lesser roles were at best functional, and largely uninspiring. Which leaves the two other stand out performers as John Tomlinson and Simon O'Neill. I know several people who actively dislike Sir John, even calling him Shouting John Tom. I can understand why, but the lack of lyricism in his voice is more than compensated by his dramatic interpretation. In a concert performance this is largely dependent on vocal drama and he did not disappoint. By and large I failed to get much sense of the actual characters of the protagonists but John's Rocco was convincingly a petty functionary who would trim and bow to the whims of whoever.

I was curious about Simon O'Neill because I have never heard him live, and I am not sure I have heard much recorded either, so I really didn't know what to expect. I enjoyed his answers provided in a Q&A.

Regular readers will know that, in general, most operas stand and fall on the tenor role. But Florestan is a curious role, in that he does not appear until the second half. But what a way to appear!

What a fabulous aria. A couple of my favourite versions are on YouTube - Plácido (blimey, I've forgotten I uploaded that) and Jonas. It seems incredibly difficult to sing, but when the tenor ets it right, it sounds stupendous.

And I will give high marks to Simon O'Neill. What a voice! To my ears a real heldentenor, lots of colour at the bottom and rising to a (more-or-less) confident high; where there were sounds of strain, I believe that this was the intention of the composer to emphasise Florestan's torment in one of opera's great Mad Scenes.

He has a real steel to his voice and reaches out to the audience, even if he didn't characterise particularly well. And he looks somewhat awkward in the way he holds his head as he sings. I definitely want to hear him again. I have to be honest because he is inhabiting similar parts of the repertoire as Plácido and Jonas, he would not be my first choice in those roles. But hey, the more glorious heldentenors the better. Just a small note of trivia, he hails from the same small town in New Zealand as does my nephew!

The opera finished with a barnstormer of a finale, bringing an excellent and memorable evening almost to a close.

Samson at the Proms

When I saw this at the Barbican in February, the Israeli bombardment of  the Gaza Ghetto was fresh in our memories, or maybe even current, although it's now slipped away and doesn't figure in mainstream news or bloggage. But I suspect that for as long as I live this work of Handel will remind me. And it was only when I listened to Today that I remembered that I shall be attending Daniel Barenboim's East West Divan's Fidelio tomorrow night.

Before I get down to details, I need to get my fan-grrrrl raving out of the way. Iestyn Davies! Oh dear, I already liked him so much I have a special category for him on this blog; after his amazing performance of Micah, my adoration has increased even more. It's almost like I'm wanting all men to sing like girls. 

I came away from Samson with a very strong sense of it being a very strong work. The programme notes made reference to its length and acknowledged that cuts were being made. It was slightly confusing at one point that the printed libretto included lines of recitative that were cut in performance. As far as I could tell, and given my lack of a score, many of the arias were fully performed, with da capos, often with delightful embellishments.

The performance was an interesting mix of traditional and modern, but I am not sure which aspects fit into which category. The orchestra was strictly period, with all that that entails - Harry Bickett conducting from the harpsichord, and another keyboard player, on second harpsichord (although switching to Handelian organ for the Death March). Other period instruments included a theorbo, on which I am really quite fixated, and valveless brass. I like the tone of valveless brass but recognise there was a reason why valves were invented; on this occasion it was the trumpets who were pretending to be French Horns.

The chorus was larger than I would expect normally for a period Baroque performance; I expect that was influenced by the size of the Albert Hall. I was surprised by the very static nature of the performance. I accept it was written as an oratorio, in deference to the laws forbidding opera performances during Lent. And I certainly didn't expect lots of mad stage work. I was just surprised at the lack of interaction between the singers. As I have previously found several of them to be at least adequate (if not much much better) actors, I assume this was deliberate.

There was plenty of life and spirit in the performance. In the interval I composed a text to Twitter, but amusingly it didn't go through (perhaps I forgot to press send!). I described the performance as 'pleasant and sedate' which I realise in retrospect to be a big mistake. It was necessary to be restrained at first in order to build up to the climax. The climax was dignified, not thunderous or dramatic, and was all the better for being so. Mark Padmore encapsulated this dignity in his final aria, Thus when the sun from's wat'ry bed, before slipping away off stage.

There were numerous musical highlights. I could be flippant and say 'all the arias and all the choruses' which would indicate that the recitatives are boring. In away they are, especially in a static performance such as this, and I find the English to be really quite impenetrable, but it wouldn't make any sense without it. I did enjoy the choruses, which were beautifully delivered, but I don't think there are any that really stand out.

I think that the singers generally acquitted themselves well. Ben Johnson, last year's Kathleen Ferrier award winner (so, young and inexperienced) didn't do much for me, but I am sure he will grow and one day will return to a major role at the Albert Hall. Christopher Purves was fine in the relatively small role of Harapha (I was amused to read that he is a former member of Harvey and the Wallbangers).

I hadn't realised that Dalila was such a small role, only appearing in Act II,  because when I saw it previously it had been with the other soprano roles. But for a short role it gets one hell of an aria, With plaintive notes and am'rous moan and Susan Gritton was fabulous, splendid trilling and a real feeling for the emotion.

Neal Davies was effective as Manoa, Samson's father, without really grabbing me, until when he was lamenting his son's death, and suddenly, I just welled up with tears.

I thought Lucy Crowe sounded lovely, but I guess with a basket of roles called Israelite Woman, Philistine Woman, and Virgin, she doesn't get much opportunity to project any character. But she does get the most famous aria that just about wraps the evening up, Let the Bright Seraphim, and I was happy with her performance.

Samson was sung by Mark Padmore, who sang it at the Barbican, and, I think, sang it a lot better. He gets a lot of good  arias; as I said above, I loved the reserved poignancy of his final aria. Total Eclipse is the show-stopper, and I thought it was a heart-rending evocation of blindness. I also enjoyed Your charms to ruin led the way.

There was plenty worthwhile from the orchestra, not just the Dead March and the wonderfully named A Symphony of horror and confusion, but snatches, phrases and passages elsewhere. There was an aria (I think it was With plaintive notes) where the Leader Nadja Zwiener accompanied the singer; that was gorgeous. 

But for me, the highlight was undoubtedly Iestyn Davies, and the highlight of his performance was Return, O God of hosts! But throughout he was just wonderful. Such a beauty of tone, amazing breath control, such expression, dramatic insight. And loud. I'm not someone who judges a singer solely on their volume, and I would far rather listen to a good quiet singer than a loud one with an absence of musicality. But Iestyn has it all, so the loudness is just icing on the cake. And I think it is worth noting in a counter-tenor because there are often complaints that they get drowned out by the orchestra especially in large halls. It probably isn't actually loudness as such, but an ability to place the voice which is difficult to describe but you know it when you hear it.

Fairy Queen at the Proms

This was a couple of weeks ago now, and I have few excuses for not getting this done earlier. It's a shame I've left it so long because, inevitably, some of the magic has dissolved into warm fuzzy memories.

The Fairy Queen, by Henry Purcell, my second localest composer* is not strictly speaking an opera, but a series of masques linked with dialogue. I reviewed a DVD a couple of years ago and won't repeat all that, focusing instead on the actual performance I attended.

It was an import from Glyndebourne. I had read some great reviews of the production and orchestra and some broadly positive reviews of the singing. I am Facebook friends with a couple of the singers, and it was amusing to read a few comments from Ed Lyon.

Glyndebourne operas are only semi-staged at the Albert Hall, but even so, are good fun. I have never been to Glyndebourne, and, although I would love to go for the opera, I would be very anxious about the dressing up, and I don't think I would be entirely comfortable with the picnic thing unless I was with someone who would be happy to fit in with my catering plans.

It was a long evening, from 6.30 to 10.30, with only a twenty minute break. It would have been nice to have a decent supper interval, rather than just grabbing a sandwich on the bus, but then, of course, that would have meant leaving work even earlier.

There was a large cast, not only of singers, but also of dancers and actors, and the Orchestra of the Age of the Enlightenment, conducted (from harpsichord) by the wonderful William Christie. I suspected that the actors were miked, and later read that this was indeed the case, but I didn't find the microphones over-intrusive. Obviously, most of the actors were unknown to me, and while I think that they worked well as an ensemble, obviously it wasn't star-studded. For me, two were outstanding, Desmond Barrit as the Drunken Poet/Bottom and Sally Dexter as Tatiana. Both of them seemed to grasp the size of the hall and projected larger-than-life characters. Verging on camp, but quite fitting for a particularly silly work.

I thought the production was wonderful. It is difficult to remember every aspect of it. I know I certainly enjoyed most of the dancing, even though I now don't recall especially stand-out moments. Apart from the rutting rabbits, of course - can you imagine six, or was it eight, human size Easter Bunnies gambolling onto stage and proceeding to enact a ballet straight out of the Karma Sutra. There was considerable laughter from the audience, even though, apparently, the BBC (Proms organisers) have received complaints.

The introduction of the Mechanics was quite a hoot. They came on dressed as cleaning ladies, and proceeded to do their cleaning, with hoover and all, in a parody ballet. Of course it's been done before, in La fille du regiment at Covent Garden and elsewhere, but it's still entertaining.

One of the highlights was Andrew Foster-Williams' entrance as Hymen (I'm afraid whenever I encounter the Greek god, I always snigger at the rude word). He fought his way along the front row of one of the blocks of the stalls, inducing visible embarrassment in some audience members. He entered the area occupied by the orchestra, tried to involve the percussion section in a discussion, rearranged the music of some string players, and then picked a fight with William Christie at the keyboard, who had to throw a few punches to defend himself.

Another highlight came towards the end, with a duet by a Chinese Man and Chinese Woman, actually Ed Lyon and one of the Glyndebourne chorus women, wearing nothing but a fig-leaf each. Although the shock to me were the blonde wigs! This was a prelude to them eating the apple in the Garden of Eden and hastily putting on beach wear.

The OAE were splendid throughout, and a fine pace was set by Mr Christie. Obviously, lots of recitative, and no outstanding orchestral moments, but fine playing, and, to my surprise, more percussion than I would have expected from the 17th century. Nice period instruments, including theorbo as well as many of the instruments familiar from modern orchestras**.

But I chose this Prom overwhelmingly for the singing, and the singing lived up to my high expectations, indeed better. A predominantly young cast, with Carolyn Sampson being the most experienced singer, probably the only one who is a 'household name' in opera households. I was also excited at the prospect of Lucy Crowe and Ed Lyon (my FB friends), whom I heard and adored in Agrippina and La Callisto respectively. Also Lucy is exquisite in duet,  As Steals the Morn, the title track of Mark Padmore's Handel CD.

A new voice to me was Andrew Foster-Williams, although I have been reading good things of him for a while. And he certainly showed why such good things have been written about him. A pleasant baritone voice, good tone and legato, excellent pitch and expressive, which coupled with good acting make for an all round excellent artist. Perhaps not one to set my knees trembling, but definitely one I am keen to hear again.

Lucy Crowe was gorgeous. I love her voice. It has a splendid combination of a crystal clear top and a rich velvety lower range, something that I find rare in sopranos (also in tenors). On stage she is fascinating. She was not especially active in this, but by standing there, collected and composed, she exuded a calm serenity. I think she is on the verge of a very significant career.

I was so pleased with Ed Lyon. I fell in love with his voice on account of a phrase or a tone in La Callisto, and other than a performance downloaded from (I think) German TV, I haven't heard him since. But I am even more convinced that I love his voice. There is something unique in his voice, a steely edge, which provides quite a contrast with what is essentially a fairly light tenor. He has a cheerful bouncy stage persona, moves well round stage, looks good in the nearly buff, and is generally easy on the eye, (but, unfortunately, sings for the other choir!).

Of course my favourite was Carolyn Sampson. It is over a year since I last heard her live, since when she has had a baby. So I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. She was gorgeous, and her Plaint was truly outstanding, the biggest highlight of the night. I was totally transfixed on her, through the binoculars, and it was one of those wonderful occasions when, even though you are in a massive hall with 6000 other people, you are totally lost in the music.

She does not do a great deal of opera, especially not staged, indeed the only live opera I had previously heard her in was Semele, although I have recordings of her in Tamerlano (Handel) and Elena e Paride (Gluck). I don't know why, it seems a shame, because she has such a natural yet sultry air and knows perfectly how to hold the audience in her hand. Oh, and that voice! I know some people prefer sopranos who scream and squawk their way up the scale, but I prefer the approach of Carolyn (and Lucy), gliding as free as air and seemingly effortless.

So, all in all, even though I found some of the actory bits a bit long and fidget-making, I came away with a warm glow inside and a smiley face on the outside, tripping lightly on an effortless journey home, delighted at a wonderful and memorable evening's entertainment.

* he's my local at work, I peer down the road he was born when I have an occasional ciggie, but my local to where I live is Streatham boy Arnold Bax (and local to where I was born is, I think Peter Maxwell-Davies)

** sorry, I know that sounds stupid, considering I probably encounter - outside the ROH - more period orchestras than modern ones, but I'm still stuck in the mindset of when I learnt the instruments of the orchestra in 1970-something, when neither the Observer's Book of Music nor the Halle chose to enlighten me about such wonders as the theorbo.

PS I found the photo in The Times and thought I would nick it whileI could...! Unfortunately, they don't credit the photographer, so neither can I. 

Haydn's Creation

I must avoid the temptation to rave on too much about the actual work, which is one of my favourite works ever written, and focus on the actual performance I attended on Saturday night.

It had a lot of good things going for it, not least Paul McCreesh as conductor, and his Gabrieli Consort and Players. I think Paul McCreesh is a bit of an expert on Creation and has rewritten the libretto.

This performance was sung in English, in the McCreesh version, which improves the familiar text eg "The wonder of his works displays the firmament" becomes "The firmament displays the wonder of his work"

My personal preference is for hearing this in English; I think it is a moot point whether English or German is more historically accurate. Although, amusingly, perhaps, when I hear it in English my head sings along in German! Some bits, anyway!

Naturally, I prefer it when played on historical instruments. And I do like the five soloist approach - replacing the soprano and baritone for Part 3. I didn't know one of the soloists, but the other four were an additional factor in attracting this concert to me.

I didn't have the best of seats in the RAH. I have a fondness for the 2nd Tier boxes. They are slightly more expensive than the Circle, but the increase in comfort - leg room, less heat, more facilities etc - make them worth while. But it can be a game of chance with acoustics; I was in a box so near the front of the arc that I was behind the soloists. And I was on the second row, which is less desirable. So, at times some of the singers sounded a bit thin and quiet to me, but I strongly suspect this was because of my position.

I also like it performed without an interval, even though that does mean sitting for two hours without break.

I thought all the singers - Rosemary Joshua, Mark Padmore, Neal Davies, Peter Harvey, and Sophie Bevan - acquitted themselves very well, although there wasn't one performance that was outstanding, to be remembered for eternity.

The choirs were outstanding: Chetham's Chamber Choir and members of Wroclaw Philharmonic Choir. Actually, I don't know if they were truly outstanding, or whether the material at their disposal just made them sound that way!

I thought the orchestra  sounded just wonderful, loved the period timpani, but the stand out was the flautist, almost certainly Katy Bircher

There are so many moments in the work that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I love the opening, Chaos, which has this wonderful passage with the chorus singing "And there was light", which is gloriously cacophonous; out of chaos comes the heavenly voice of the tenor proclaiming "And God saw the light..."

As the days progress, I revel in the pictures painted by the music, 'rolling in foaming billows uplifted roars the boisterous sea' sounds so different from 'By flowers sweet and gay adorned is the charming sight'. And then the fun bit, with the animals, the  birds, the lion and, of course, the worm" until Part II climaxes with 'Achieved is the glorious work', a wonderful chorus that rings out and fills the Albert Hall.

Part 3 is completely different, recounting the story of Adam and Eve as a love story. In itself it is, surely, amongst my most favourite substantial excerpt of music. I find it fascinating how the pace starts slowly and steadily speeds up imperceptibly until you reach the end of a substantial passage which is happening at great speed. And the work ends with a great fugue.

So, it would have been a thoroughly enjoyable evening if it hadn't been for the man sitting next to me. But perhaps that is a separate blog post!

First night of the Proms

I watched this on the TV.

Actually, I have a confession. I had been out for a curry and got back just as the 'delayed live' broadcast was beginning. I came over all tired, which was exacerbated by the small quantities of wine I had had with dinner. So I had to rewind on the Sky+. So it was delayed delayed live.

The details are here with links to the unnecessarily Flashy programme notes ie fine from home but completely inaccessible from any workplace that doesn't have Flash, so totally pointless for any concerts I will attend after work.

I enjoyed it from the comfort of my sofa, and thought that all the performers were at least of a satisfactory standard. There was nothing in the programme that really attracted me beforehand, and nothing about the performances that changed that view. Glad it was on, glad I watched it, glad I didn't fork out to go in person.

Proms announced

They really have a strange way of doing this. They pre-announce that they will announce at 6pm but hold the Press Conference hours earlier. Obviously oblivious to the way the internet works, presumably thinking that neither the nationals nor the specialist press will publish anything until breakfast time, they fail to update their own website. Which I think should go on line the moment the Press Conference finishes. And at 17:59 they text me. Old news, old news.

What's On

So what appeals to me?

Very little, if the truth be told. Certainly, if it means forking out money, making my way to South Ken and sitting in a hot airless tin hut.

But there are some 'not-to-miss' concerts for me, the most obvious ones being Samson, Fairy Queen, which includes one singer I love and two who are on my list of 'must see more of', Partenope, I suppose, but I can't see it matching up to the superb production and performance from ENO last year. Also, the Sixteen, with Carolyn Sampson singing, in a Handel night. And definitely the Fidelio with the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, and Waltraud Meier.

There are several big orchestra pieces that I would like to hear live but far too many of them are programmed with works I don't have the slightest inclination of listening to. I know the idea is that the well-known work draws one in and then one is open to the unfamiliar work, but just because one ought, doesn't mean one must.

I think I will give Messiah a miss; can't say I fancy the massed choirs of thousands of schoolies, even less the idea of being in the audience of masses of parents many of whom will be there to preen and show off rather than enjoy the music.  And I'm not even sure I am that keen on Creation. I expect I shall go, though, because Ilove the work so much more than almost any other piece of music that exists