Although I still have two concerts to attend, it's time to reflect on a year of concert going. Silly to include the two that happen this week, because any objectivity will be impaired by propinquity.
If I was sensible I would just do a list of ten and leave it at that.
But it's not that straightforward.
Firstly, I will syphon off Live8. Five-and-a-half months on, I am tempted to joke that We have made Live8 history. For good and for bad it was a Sui generis event and a fabulous day out.
We were lucky enough to win tickets in the text message lottery. I am glad that I didn't fork out mega moolah for a ticket, even if that would have put me closer to the stage and actually able to see the Slebs. There was a great deal of standing around; an awful lot of posturing and smugness. There were some truly awful acts appearing. It was full of a very much-of-a-muchness musically where light rock meets heavy pop, all nicely safe and middle-class.
There was enormous cultural imperialism, with barely an acknowledgement of non-white performers; indeed, without doing a check, I think the entire London line-up, except for Youssou N'Dour, belatedly included as a veneer of multi-culturism, was either from Western Europe or North America. The audience was overwhelmingly white, with barely a sighting of any black or Asian person. And by being there, we were able to fast forward through the appalling TV coverage (Jonathan Ross). But I don't think that I shall look back in twenty years time and see it as an epoch-making event. I will remember it, and I will remember some of the acts that played, notably REM, Scissor Sisters and above all Robbie Williams. Also Madonna, Pink Floyd and Paul McCartney. I can't even remember the names of many of the instantly forgettable bands that strutted their ignorance. A formulaic calculation of music enjoyed would not merit this a place probably even in my top ten. But it was greater than the sum of its sometimes appalling parts.
I also must separate out the five times I saw and heard Plácido live, twice in concert, three times in Die Walküre (one a concert performance). Of the five, the Dublin concert and the Prom were absolutely simply the best, but I also thoroughly enjoyed the two ROH Walküres and the Berlin concert. Indeed, if I had only seen him in Berlin, this would rate as my favourite concert of the year. And I met him, which was a wonderful unforgettable experience!
As for the rest. I have belatedly come to the conclusion that going to concerts and operas with Jimmy is not always a wise thing, because we tend to imbibe too much alcohol, before, during and after, often rendering me unable to remember sufficient detail to write a meaningful review, even though I have a clear memory of the levels of enjoyment and the reasons why. This applies to La Traviata; Thomas Quasthoff; the Fauré etc after which I met Teddy Tahu Rhodes; a Mainly Mozart (And Bach, Haydn and Handel) featuring Carolyn Sampson and The Sixteen, La Fanciulla Del West and Un ballo in maschera last week (much better than I had had reason to expect).
I bought and failed to use far too many tickets, but, interestingly, I do no regret my non-attendance, except perhaps for the Alice Coote Dream of Gerontius, which came over marvellously on the TV.
I attended a few turkeys, but only walked out of one, the disgraceful Renée Fleming (Flappers please note that I reserve the right to delete anonymous comments and ignore Flaming emails).
So the best of the rest, in no particular order. Neil Diamond at Earls Court, Beethoven's Ninth at the Royal Festival Hall; Steve Reich at the Barbican; Silete Vente etc at St George's Handel Square, featuring Carolyn Sampson; Mozart at Cadogan Hall, featuring Carolyn Sampson; Eugene Onegin at ENO, starring Gerald Finley; Gerald Finley and Julius Drake at Cadogan Hall; Rigoletto at Royal Opera House and Giulio Cesare at The Proms. I still have a Dream of Gerontius at the Barbican and a L'Enfance du Christ at Cadogan.
And the winner is, after careful consideration, Die Walküre, at the Proms. Or Plácido in Dublin.
I think my ultimate concert would have to involve Plácido, Carolyn and Gerry sharing a platform.
