Gertsamtkunstwerk

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

Panis Angelicus

Plácido Domingo and Yo Yo Ma perform at Edward Kennedy's funeral, today

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.

Photo 365/3 Fail 1 - Dolly Likes Beer

I know it's only 10 pm and I could go out and hunt for photo-shooting ops, but I'm really not in the mood. I have been fairly busy all day, attending to domestic minutiae and researching the area where we are going on holiday. Having thought we have booked a beach holiday, we are now planning on taking walking boots - and using them.

But rather than not publish a photo at all, I thought I would publish one I took at a wedding I attended a few weeks ago. I constructed the scenario especially for the taking of the photo.  It wasn't that I was drunk, as such, although, clearly I was under the influence. We were Bride's Family, I think the doll belonged to Groom's Family.

 

Should we pay politicians?

The MPs' Expenses Scandal is in many ways old news, although I suspect that 'moats and duckhouses' will linger for years as a symbol of something.

Something that has struck me forcibly about the story is how out of touch people are with each other; indeed, how out of touch I am with most people.

On the one hand, you have members of the public leaving their comments on MSM articles or speaking in voxpops declaring that an annual salary of £65,000 is a definition of rich, and on the other hand you get Tory MPs declaring that such a salary would deter people from a professional or business backgrounds from going into Politics.

Both opinions are simultaneously right and wrong.

And also reflect my own ambiguous views about income and wealth.

All the media reports suggest that my earnings are high, even if I just put in the part time equivalent; if I extrapolated my FTE, I would be higher still. But these reports are caveated that the data comes from PAYE and benefit records, thus excluding those on  unearned income, or, I think, the many self-employed who trade as limited companies etc. So, while I am statistically a high earner, my income is considerably less than countless other people I would not consider as 'rich'. And yet, I know that there are plenty of people in skilled or semi-skilled jobs who earn much less than I do (and in many cases have dependents to support from that).

To the best of my knowledge there isn't a shortage of people wanting to become an MP.  My childhood ambition was to be Prime Minister, and it certainly isn't the salary that deters me from seeking to be a candidate - the reasons for that are many, none of them is salary.

Even if one was entirely motivated by money, being an MP could be used as a springboard to great financial rewards. Obviously, ex-PMs get to earn millions doing after-dinner speeches, but even relatively obscure ex-MPs can find countless sinecures and non-jobs as non-executive directors, pseudo-journalists, gameshow competitors and so on, if they so wish.

These Tories talk as if somehow they are examples of the high quality people that Politics is desperately in need of, as if there is currently a dearth of lawyers and management consultants on the green leather benches.

What Parliament actually lacks is a critical mass of professionals and business people for whom £65k pa would represent a significant pay rise. Public sector professionals or technicians - real ones that deliver, not bureaucrats like me - who have real experience of how health, education and transport work in practice, or genuine businesspeople, such as publicans, electricians or makers of artisan cheeses, for whom labour costs, regulatory burden and fluctuating exchange rates are everyday realities not theoretical concepts; in other words, the workers by hand or by brain for whom the Labour Representation Committee was formed.

Of course, we want our Parliamentary representatives, legislators and ministers to have the intellectual capacity, experience and confidence to assimilate information and judge conflicting evidence, to draw a conclusion and to understand how to implement the change or eradicate the problem. Which is why there are so many lawyers and bureaucrats in Parliament.

We also need them to be able to think through a logical process whilst empathising with natural human irrationality. We want Parliamentarians who can differentiate between a groundswell and a bandwagon, who can listen to a vulnerable person and inspire a crowd, who can prioritise simultaneously  the needs of the community they serve and the most needy and vulnerable nationally and internationally, who can stick to their principles (which makes principles a prerequisite) and can compromise pragmatically. I doubt that we have many Parliamentarians who possess even the majority of those skills, and those that do are not necessarily the most prominent or high-flying.

To be honest, I don't think that I care a great deal whether an MP's salary is £65k or £150k. To me they are pretty much in a range that I could call 'more than I earn but pretty sure that I could spend easily without branching out into a designer/luxury lifestyle'.

Salaries in that range won't attract people motivated purely by money. But I'm not sure they would deter people such as hospital consultants or entrepreneurs who have the drive and hunger to offer their skills.

If they want it enough, they will make the 'sacrifices'; if they don't want to forego the school fees, the expensive holidays, the large houses, they probably don't want to be an MP enough to go through the hard slog of getting selected, and then elected.

I see no point in trying to align MPs' salaries with highly skilled professions or with Chief Executives of large organisations, because neither the skills and training required nor the responsibilities entailed can compare. Granted nothing is more responsible than decisions to go to war, but backbenchers don't make those decisions, and most 'decisions' over matters as diverse as education policy or reproductive rights are matters of detail and incremental.

What annoys me more about the content of what those out-of-touch Tory MPs said was the style in what it was said, their seeming lack of awareness of the actual earnings not only of 'poor' or 'struggling' or 'not well off' people' but also of the majority of professionals and business people who have decent housing, disposable income and a prosperous lifestyle. In one respect I do agree with the New Labour philosophy of representing Mondeo Man or Worcester Woman, because the Tories clearly do not and cannot begin to understand their needs and aspirations. But I don't believe WW and MM should be considered as more important than the poor, struggling and not well off.

365/3 Kensington Gardens

I went to a Prom tonight - I'll write it up tomorrow - so I thought that I would take a photo of something that caught my eye near the Albert Hall. I did take a few that I hoped would have turned out quirky, or something, but I was disappointed. I could see that I could have taken a much better photo on a different aperture setting, so I shall try again another day. Sadly I won't get the light I got this evening, which was pretty gorgeous.

It seems a cop put to take a picture of the Albert Memorial - too predictable, too touristy. It's a bit sad to publish a picture of the Albert Memorial with its top chopped off, but, for a day where the weather forecast was heavy showers, and not a drop did fall (to my knowledge), I think this is delightfully summery

I was standing outside in the second interval, when it was pretty much dark, and some people standing near me were looking for Tinkerbell flying past old Bertie (there's a production of Peter Pan on in the gardens at the moment)

365/2 - Yuppie Flats

I already see a possible stumbling block in this project: if I force myself to publish a photo everyday, inevitably, there will be some that just don't attract the eye. I hope that when such things happen, I will, at least, have a story to tell!

This is not far from where I work. A few years ago, I was working in another building that overlooked this site, which was then derelict and being demolished from within. I assume that it is listed, and therefore they could not alter the façade.

Many years previous to that, I remember there being a furore about the closure of this, the Westminster hospital merging with several others to form what was originally going to be called the Westminster and Chelsea, until someone realised that the acronym was unfortunate*. 

In the late 90s I worked in Hammersmith, and occasionally passed the Chelsea and Westminster, which is massive, huge. Like the Lanesborough Hotel at Hyde Park Corner, which was once St George's, which is now based in Tooting, I simply cannot understand there being opposition to Victorian hospitals leaving the city centre for residential areas, still in Inner London, with capacity for expansion. It was not as if it left that area of London without a hospital, with the large St Thomas's almost visible from there, and Guys not much further up river.

I have been puzzled for a long time what the building is. It seems in some ways to resemble a hotel, but lacks the hustle and bustle and obvious catering facilities of a hotel. It also resembles a block of yuppie flats, but that doesn't really explain why the concierge has a  luggage trolley like posh hotels or the manner in which people come and go. It seems that some, at least,  of the apartments are available for short-term let, for business or tourist purposes.  I am not sure I would wish to stay in an apartment block which so blatantly omits the vital apostrophe in St John's (sic). Lowers the tone, somewhat, don't you think?

* urban myth, possibly

This project is not an attempt to emulate the London Daily Photo, but nevertheless I commend the site to you.

Un ballo in maschera at Holland Park

Another review several weeks late. I really need to get disciplined, sooner rather than later! (After this I will still have two outstanding...)

I was filled with apprehension, having endured a rather poor performance of this at Royal Opera House, and even though the reviews suggested that I would be better off at Opera Holland Park, I was still a bit nervous. I can't say I was filled with confidence with the news that the scheduled tenor Rafael Rojas would be miming while David Randall would sing from the pit. I don't know anything about Rafael (except he is the third Mexican tenor to cancel on me this summer), but miming/pit singing never quite works.

I took my seat and then stood up to survey the crowd to find a couple of friends who had said they were sitting in a row several behind mine. Initially, I didn't spot them, but did spot John Major, who, presumably, was playing the role of long-suffering opera husband to Norma.

I always held the view that John Major was probably a perfectly pleasant bloke, but that doesn't alter the fact that he was a Tory Prime Minister, the one who privatised the railways, and generally ran down the NHS. Besides, two disgraced former Lambeth Councillors is one too many at a small opera house. Still, I did think it was very brave of the man who referred to the bastards in his cabinet to attend an opera about a political assassination.

Before the opera started, the people behind me were lamenting the fact that it had been 'updated' and talking of a friend of theirs; for him, opera is everything but he absolutely refuses to go to any updated production.

I think this is such a stupid attitude, because avoiding a particular type of production may mean you miss a glorious vocal performance. There is always the possibility that you might get a better, or different, insight into the story, or you might just be entertained (admittedly, not always in the way the director might have intended). In any case, it strikes me as being totally bizarre to be into a totally unnaturalistic and somewhat unrealistic art-form, and then to demand naturalistic or realistic performances.

The chap did ask the question - why do these companies have to update it? My reaction, thought but not spoken, was that, for a small company like OHP, I bet it means they save a fortune on the costuming budget; probably also on scenery and sets (although OHP don't do sets and scenery in a big way, anyway). Also, and conversely, by allowing the singers to be more naturalistic, it probably allows them to be truer to the characters.

Sometimes people mention that Un ballo is based - very loosely - on historical facts and therefore doesn't stand up to modernisation. To be honest, I think the story is just a great opportunity for emotional outpourings. The story is just 'backstory', the reason why these outpourings are happening, so it doesn't ultimately matter whether it's set in old Sweden, not-so-old Boston, or modern day Washington DC. If anything, it's about power and intrigue.

It was partly set in the Oval Office at the White House: one of the major props/scenery was the seal of the President of the United States. It did cross my mind that there was actually an audience member who had been to the White House, then I remembered that I have, too, and, no doubt, several other people. Although, admittedly, not the Oval Office.

A lot of the events took place under surveillance. There were prominent video cameras, perhaps recording for a fly-on-the-wall type documentary.

One of the most amusing/entertaining bits came in the 'Gallows-field' scene, where Amelia was portrayed as a junkie visiting the ghetto for a fix. Yeah, it didn't follow the logic of the original libretto, but it was not inherently illogical, and didn't interrupt or corrupt the forward momentum of the narrative. For the masked ball scene, they all wore Cristiano Ronaldo masks, which I found far more convincing than those silly Venetian velvet things that just surround the eyes, which are usually used. It would be difficult to identify anyone if they are all wearing Cristiano 'Traitor' Ronaldo masks.

Performance-wise, the orchestra, under Peter Robinson, weren't up to the ROH, but, that having been said, I have no real complaints. Of course, it is much smaller, (but they have a smaller house to fill and they aren't submerged in a pit) and they did just fine.

I thought overall, the cast was vastly superior to the one put out at ROH. OHP's replacement guy was much better than his ROH equivalent. David Randall's voice isn't especially attractive, and there were holes in it. I suspect I noticed these because I am so in love with the tenor role in this opera; I don't think I would have been so picky in a role I didn't know so well. Considering the circumstances, I was pleased at and grateful for his performance. I thought that Rafael Rojas acted the role convincingly. I wouldn't call him a handsome man but he clearly has stage presence and authority, which is essential for this role.

Olafur Sigurdarson was competent as Renato/Ankarstrom/main bastard of the Cabinet. I don't think he put a foot wrong, nor, more importantly, sang a duff note. I think overall his performance was better than the ROH Renato, although, in contrast his Eri Tu was disappointing (although Ballo is primarily a tenor's opera, I will concede that the baritone's Eri Tu is a major highlight - and for the rest of the week my earworm was Di Provenza, the baritone aria from Verdi's Traviata).

Gail Pearson was entertaining as Oscar. I was thrown by the fact that the role was portrayed as female - traditionally, a soprano sings it as a travesti role. If done well, there can be delightfully ambiguous sexual frisson between Riccardo/Gustavo and Oscar. A few reviews said in praise that she made the role less annoying than usual, but I have to confess that I love the annoyingness of a traditional Oscar.

The star was, undoubtedly, Amanda Echalaz as Amelia. To be honest, she's probably just about outgrown OHP - she made an emergency appearance in Tosca at ROH and is headlining at ENO next season.

It was a pleasure to hear a soprano in the role who, in the love duet, didn't sound as though she was in the extremes of period pain. I am sure that the writing is deliberate to bring out her tortured feelings, but there's a fine line between anguish and screeching. She's obviously a star in the making, and I offer criticism of her being far from finished and polished in recognition of the higher standards by which she will be judged. She was excellent by Holland Park standards, and that is no criticism of them, just an acceptance that they don't get the biggest names - but have been shrewd enough to engage Amanda while they can.

All told, it was a highly enjoyable evening that seemed to pass so quickly. A deluge began as the interval was ending; the production was blocked that the chorus processed in twos from the mansion to the stage to arrive for the masked ball. The weather demanded prosaic umbrellas; umbrellas would have ruined a twee Merchant-Ivory frocked production. I didn't find them incongruous or jarring, just a reflection of the reality of attending any sort of swanky social event.

I see that OHP have the list of works for next season up on the website. I'll give Pelleas et Melisande a miss, but the others just entice me in: Carmen, Don Giovanni, Fidelio ('revival of the stunning 2003 Olivia Fuchs production'), Forza and Francesca da Rimini. Unfortunately, they will to a large extent coincide with the time I shall be going crazy over Simon Boccanegra at the Big House at the other end of town. I suspect I shall prioritise the Fs, and see what the casting is for the other two.

All photos: Fritz Curzon, Opera Holland Park website

Operalia Gala Rehearsal Photo Gallery

I should have posted this a week or so ago:

Operalia Gala

It must have been hot, because Plácido has three buttons unfastened on his shirt

 

There appears to be several clips on YouTube - just search Operalia 2009 - but I haven't got time to be sucked into watching them just now!

A new 'project' - 365/1

Quite a lot of people seem to be doing this: the idea is to force yourself to take photos every day, and I have decided I will do so.

I have set myself a few rules and excuses.

Photos from the phone don't count (in any case, I'm having 'issues' with my internet connection from my phone at the moment, which means I can't email photos to the blog; I need to take it into a Carphone Warehouse to see if they can sort it)

I will try to avoid taking photos of my house or garden: part of the challenge is to take a look at the wider world; however, if I get laid up with swine 'flu, or when it's cold, wet and windy in winter, I might break this rule.

On the whole, I shall be aiming to photograph everyday objects and sights; there may be exceptions.

I will try and post a photograph on the actual day of taking it, or before breakfast the next day; this won't happen when late nights are followed by early-ish mornings.

When I'm away eg on holiday, I will continue to take daily photos (of course) but I may not upload them until after the return home. If, however, I fail to take a single (usable?) photo in a day, that will be a 'fail'.

I might take and publish pictures of people in the public eye, but I won't publish photos of friends or relatives without their specific permission.

There will be no cat photographs.

Failure won't be a catastrophe, there will always be another day.

So, today's photo: berries on a tree in Millbank Gardens behind Tate Britain

Abundant berries are traditionally a prediction of a cold winter. Both Jimmy and my manager kept telling me this six years ago; it didn't happen.

But doesn't that look autumnal?

Lovin' the NHS

Just in case anyone hasn't noticed, there is a major row raging. Opposing President Obama's plans to widen public provision of health care, certain right wing Republicans in the USA choose to tell lies and fling insults at the UK NHS.

In retaliation, many people in the UK have been stating how and why they love the NHS (others, politically aligned with the right wing Republicans) have been telling tales about the NHS is a disgrace because they failed to get attention for a non-urgent condition at 4am, or tales of incompetence, which may or may not be true, but can be matched by similar anecdotes from the private sector, in the UK or elsewhere.

Someone said that the NHS is like a husband, you can moan about it as much as you wish, but as soon as someone else does, you are honour bound to defend it. That argument has its attractions, but it has its flaws. I do feel, however, that one is perfectly entitled to favour something in principle, and, generally in practice, but be able to see the flaws in the details and wish to improve them.

The debate is getting somewhat bogged down in arguments about the relative technical competency. I don't think anybody has ever suggested that the very best of US medical expertise can be bettered elsewhere (but the same statement could be applied to most developed countries).

The argument is, plain and simply, about whether or not it is desirable to have a system of healthcare provision that is available, free at the point of use, to all people irrespective of financial means. And I strongly believe that it is.

I don't believe that there are any plans in the USA to introduce a system analogous to the UK NHS, and, to be honest, I'm not sure it would be the system we would adopt if we were constructing it from scratch.

My major criticism of the US-style system is how healthcare is rationed on the basis of ability to pay. Anecdotes abound about people not being able to afford an insurance policy because they are in low-paid jobs, or because they are self-employed, or because they work for a small company that can't afford a health system.

Indeed, I have a cousin, who is a born again evangelical Christian and right wing Republican - was a county legislator, openly supported George W Bush during the 2000 primaries, home-schooled his children, didn't allow his daughters to socialise with their male cousins of similar ages in order to prevent inappropriate behaviour.

He wished to make a living as a preacher but knowing the cost of birth, and wanting many children (he has four children, and has adopted the orphaned daughter of his wife's sister), he instead became a carpet salesman. 

I don't agree with his religion, but I always used to think it was a pity that he couldn't pursue that dream because of the terrible system of American healthcare; it has only just dawned on me that he is complicit, and in some ways entirely responsible for his lack of freedom to pursue his dream. Surely there must be many more who are 'trapped' into jobs or long hours, because it would be too much of a risk to become an entrepreneur or to work for one, or to stay at home to bring up their children (maybe even to home school them) -  and they count among the insured, not the millions of the uninsured.

Our mutual aunt was a community nurse in Long Island; she has told me tales of how, basically, she would visit patients until their insurance ran out ie not based on their clinical need.

I read blogs and have done for several years, and what strikes me again and again how many people in the US write about how they, or their relatives, are not getting the treatment their doctor has recommended, because the insurance company has vetoed it. I know that people are denied treatment in the NHS because of 'postcode lottery'; personally I would prefer a transparent and accountable system.

One of the statistics I have read is that cancer survival rates are longer in the USA than in the UK. This may be the case and it may be that this is a result of the US health system having developed superior treatment (and refused to share the secrets with the rest of the world). Alternatively, it may be to do with one or more of the following factors:

• perhaps there is a culture in the UK of later self-referral for embarrassing but lethal cancers such as bowel cancers
• perhaps there is a greater incidence in the USA of non-lethal cancers, such as skin cancers, as a result of climate differences
• perhaps there is a greater culture in the UK of offering palliative care to maintain a quality of life rather than chemotherapy and radiotherapy to prolong life in pain and discomfort
• perhaps more people in the US - without insurance - die with cancer undiagnosed

Of course, I have no evidence to prove (or disprove) these statements, but it's just the auditor in me applying a bit of professional scepticism to bare statistics.

Quite a lot of people have argued in favour of the National Health Service on the grounds of compassion, humanity and society, and I certainly wouldn't argue against that, but sadly, I don't think that that would wash with these rapid right-wingers. I would reiterate my argument above that access to a health service free at the point of use increases freedom to pursue quality of life rather than merely working as a wage slave. 

I find it shocking to know that in the USA working people on modest incomes are denied medical treatment. I find it even more shocking that people are denied coverage because they have an existing condition.

Jimmy had a heart attack at 29.This has never been a barrier to him receiving treatment; indeed, although he is perfectly healthy, because the attack shows up on the EEG it is always of interest to doctors. I believe that certain insurance schemes in the USA would withhold coverage on that basis.

I have several friends and acquaintances whose children have chronic incurable or congenital conditions such as cystic fibrosis, cerebral palsy, spina bifida or have received organ transplants. I understand that, under certain insurance schemes, their entire families would be excluded from insurance.

Some of these friends and acquaintances are on fairly high salaries, but by no means wealthy. I can't imagine how they could possibly afford to pay up front all the treatment their children have. I am perfectly happy to know that my tax/NI is being spent on their children.

It is not the place of a UK blogger to tell the citizens of the USA how to organise their domestic politics. However, when their politicians spread lies and insults about our system, I do think I am entitled to fight back.

Exercise sucks

Sod all this for a game of soldiers.

We went out on the bikes on Sunday, just down to Tooting Common and back, not very exciting, but just enough to loosen up and get a breath of fresh air and blow off the cobwebs.

(We would have been out longer but we had spent quite some time looking through the internet for somewhere to go on holiday...we have now booked apartment in and flights to the Costa Blanca, between Alicante and Benidorm, but most definitely not Benidorm).

On Monday we set off to continue our Thames Path adventure. Last time, we finished at Barnes Bridge Station in the rain, so this time we caught the train there, at which point it started to rain! Fortunately it cleared up after we had had coffee in a chi-chi coffee shop, and we set off along the Thames.

That was a really lovely ride.

We got as far as Richmond. I would have liked to have gone on, probably as far as Kingston, but it wasn't actually very warm, and Jimmy decreed that we had done enough. We had got caught  in the rain in the middle of nowhere, and at one point it was a bit wet and cold, but we survived, and it stopped.

We stopped off at the White Cross at Richmond for a pie. I made the mistake of having a pint of shandy. That was a really stupid thing to do. The beer's fine, but I just can't take the lemonade. In fact, it's not the lemonade, it's just the bubbles. Just a half pint of bubbles, and I'm still hiccupping at bedtime! So, long and short of it, we caught the train home.

I would strongly recommend the Surrey bank of the Thames from Hammersmith Bridge down to Richmond. A great deal of it is through woodland, often under a cover of trees. If it wasn't for the constant roar of jets approaching and leaving Heathrow, you wouldn't know you were in Zones 3-4. I can't say I'd care for living under the flightpath, but house prices don't seem to suffer, so I can only conclude that aircraft noise doesn't matter quite as much as people pretend.

I only took fifty photos, and of course, several are instant rejects. That's the problem with cycling, rather than walking. On the bike you whizz past and see the big picture, whereas with walking you have more time to take in the details.

When I'm walking, I tend to have the camera round my neck, out of its case. Cycling, I keep it in its case in the ruck-sack, so taking a photo involves getting off the bike, taking off the ruck-sack, taking out the camera, taking it out of its case, and turning it on, whereas walking, it's just point and shoot!

It was so good to be in Richmond on Thames Borough rather than Wandsworth. Wandsworth really is a horrible Borough. Unfortunately, it's far too close to where I live and thus difficult to avoid. It is extremely bike unfriendly in so many ways - for example the way they mark paths on Wandsworth and Tooting Commons as being 'no cycling' without suggesting a feasible alternative to get from a to b. They even have signs instructing cyclists to give way to pedestrians on the designated cycle paths that run alongside wide footpaths. They barely pay lip service to the London and National cycle networks, and are very grudging about even green tarmac (which I admit is not much more use than a chocolate fireguard).

But what annoyed me most about Wandsworth was their disregard for the Thames Path. It's a wonderful idea and a wonderful asset, but Wandsworth aren't interested. A combination of allowing developments to encroach onto the riverbank and failing to provide adequate signage. Richmond, in contrast, has clear signs, not only showing directions but also mileage, and at intervals they also provide maps with details of local attractions.

When we got home, it was lovely to have a shower, and then to sit snuggly and yet cool in light cotton pyjamas. But I couldn't help thinking, despite all the cycling, it's still my feet that hurt, from too much walking!

This evening I went swimming. I was delighted to see a new sign outside the changing room stating that no boys over five are allowed in the female changing room, please use the family changing room. Of course, that won't prevent the 6-8 year olds being taken in molly-coddling mothers, but hopefully it will be a useful tool against those who allow their 10-11 year olds to run around and climb the cubicles to stare at older women getting changed (breeding a new generation of perverts).

I went in the pool and my arms gave out. At first, I told myself it was because I was out of practice. Then I began to think it through logically. The arms are usually the last to go, in or out of practice. Then it dawned on me, I was suffering the effects of carrying the bike up and down steps at Streatham Hill, twice up and down at Clapham Junction, and down at both Barnes Bridge and Richmond. So in fact my arms got more exercise from carrying the bike than my legs did from peddling it. So I might as well take up weight-training!

Tomorrow night, it's a double Proms night!

As You Like It, at the Globe

I went to see this, a couple of weeks ago, at the Globe Theatre in South London. For those of you that don't know, the Globe is a restoration (or re-creation) on the same site as the theatre of Shakespeare's time. I went with my mother. We had booked the tickets fairly late; by the time we decided to go, there were very few left. So we got pretty cheap tickets, with limited view.

Prior to going, we had spent some of the day on a river cruise, and had also eaten sumptuously. The weather was warm, and being with my mother was really quite tiring.

I have to confess that I am not a great Shakespeare fan; there's not a play he wrote that Verdi didn't improve /g! Actually, that's not strictly true, I do like several of his plays, but it all depends on performance.

There seems to me to be broadly two ways of performing Shakespeare. One is naturalistic, acknowledging the blank verse, but, nevertheless, delivered in the natural inflections of spoken English. The other is, well, that's broadly what we got at The Globe.

Obviously, we were at a disadvantage having a side view, and one that was  well forward of where the proscenium would be, if there was a proscenium. And I certainly didn't go in expecting lots of scenery and furniture, so that was okay.

We had not been there that long when I started thinking that this was dire. It was everything I don't like about Shakespeare, over-delivered lines by hammy actors, no sense of all of the characters. It wasn't quite as bad as sitting in a classroom listening to fellow pupils sight-reading the lines, but the standard of acting seemed no better than a Sixth Form production.

Then I rebuked myself. Who am I to pass judgement like this? It's not like I am a regular attender of the straight theatre, and I don't believe I have been to Shakespeare in all the time I have lived in London. I actually have no right criticising these actors.

And then another character appeared and started speaking, and acting, and I knew Iwasn't wrong. To have one actor/character who delivers exactly what I want serves to display the shortcomings of the others. This was Tim McMullan, as Melancholy Jaques. His "All the World's A stage" was a thing of beauty, even though I did think I was a bit like people who go to Turandot just to hear 'Nessun Dorma'. And good though he was, he wasn't enough to make us stay for the second half. But at least we could say we'd been to The Globe.

New Puccini CD

A snippet picked up from Opera-L

P.S. Announced for release in Europe at the end of the month is an album "Puccini Ritrovato" which features selections from Puccini operas we generally don't hear in the opera house. Some are edited by Michael Kaye and others by Linda Fairtile (some of the latter apparently from the recently "rediscovered" manuscript of the original four-act Edgar.) Urmana and Domingo are the soloists.

C'est toi? ... C'est moi

Don José, aged 68 - still the best!

YouTube clips

I was in two minds whether to post these because I really don't like Andrea Bocelli - there's something about his voice that reminds me of that high pitched interference you'd get on radio broadcasts from the continent back in the 70s.

Andrea Bocelli Placido Domingo Pearlfishers Teatro del Silenzio 2009

Plácido Domingo and Andrea Bocelli sing Nessun Dorma

And this compilation from the concert contains a brief excerpt of Plácido singing Amor, vida di mi vida, also Katherine 'Warbling Barbie' Jenkins remaining frigid while singing/waltzing Lippen Schweigen with Mr Charisma, and far too much of Andrea Senzatalento nasal whining (I sat through ten minutes of this, dDear Reader, for your sake)

And to clear the palate, a tantalising 36 second clip from Otello at Verona

and a minute and a half of Cyrano's death scene, again tantalising because he gets as far as falling onto the chair, but the falling on to the floor, and rolling, is yet to come.

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. 

Signs

These signs are on the wall of a shop - the Pharmacy, as it happens - a few doors away from me.

They read 'C.P. 1877' and 'S.P. 1852'

I suspect that they are to mark the then boundaries of Clapham Parish and Streatham Parish respectively, although I have no specific proof of this. My supposition is based upon my - by no means expert - knowledge of the local area where I live.

But there could be an entirely different explanation!

Waiting for Godot

This summer's hot ticket in the West End, having been on tour in the provinces. A truly outstanding cast, in a work that must be one of the classics of the twentieth century.

I read Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett when I was a teenager, at just about that age when you confuse existential angst with intellectuality. It was only in a conversation with some people at work that I remembered I had also seen it on the TV, some time in the Eighties, I think.

On a typically rainy July evening I turned up at The Theatre Royal Drury Lane, to be met with the news that Patrick Stewart was indisposed. That did not surprise me - not him specifically, but the fact that my entire entertainment calendar is currently plagued with the cancellitis of key players. His cover was Gareth Williams, once of The Flying Pickets. The rest of the cast remained as it were - Ian McKellen, Simon Callow and Ronald Pickup - what a starry cast and no small reason for the 'hotness' of the tickets!

As I twittered at the time, back in the Eighties, I used to think Godot was a damning indictment of Stalinism, but I can't really remember why now - perhaps I was influenced by the prevailing mood of the Eighties to find any literary allusions that 'proved' the wrongness of Communism.

The underlying theme I got this time was about the ageing process. I am not suggesting that it was the equivalent of a TV drama set in residential care for the elderly. The two main characters hinted at a past of some merit, even though they were now tramps. Estrogen (McKellen)was emotionally, and practically, dependent upon Vladimir (Williams). I was not convinced that Vladimir could survive without Estrogen.

I don't suppose I am spoiling it by noting that Godot doesn't turn up. I expect the audience is supposed to 'know' this, otherwise it wouldn't work on a second showing. I wonder whether the characters know, really, that he won't show, but as they have nothing else to do, they might as well wait.

Performance-wise I thought that Gareth Williams was good. If I had been expecting an ordinary cast of journeyman actors I would have been pleased with his performance. And, in truth, I was far from displeased. But alongside Ian McKellen and Simon Callow, and indeed Ronald Pickup, 'good' doesn't stand up to comparison. 

Although I knew that it was Ian McKellan on stage I didn't actually recognise him. Admittedly I was not helped by his big bushy beard. It was not until the curtain calls, when the actors come out of character, and I saw a particular twinkle in his eyes, and I did recognise him then. I hope that sums up how totally convincing he was in the role. It does not describe how compelling he was, how difficult it was to take my eyes off him.

Simon Callow was brilliant as Pozzo. Very OTT and blustery. I don't think it was just the blonde wig that made me think of a certain Buffoon Mayor of London. Ronald Pickup played Lucky in a very understated manner, which caused me to consider the circumstances that can cause a man, presumably a free man in a free society (but see previous comments about Stalinism). He has to have a honourable mention for very impressive, almost tenor-like, falling to and rolling-around the ground when well past the first bursts of youth.

There were longeurs in the play, which caused me to fidget somewhat (short attention span, inability to concentrate, you see) but overall, it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening. I'm not sure, ultimately, that it was intensely thought-provoking, but certainly more satisfying than mere lcd entertainment.