Gertsamtkunstwerk

Essential Music of England

One of those little gems from Decca. CD 1 is called The Spirit of England; CD 2 is The Pastoral England. Performers include: Sir Georg Solti, Sir Adrian Boult, Sir Neville Marriner, Benjamin Britten, Joseph Cooper, Sir Winston Churchill and Dame Vera Lynn.

You can stop laughing now. At the Winston/Dame Vera, I mean, the rest are gods and not to be laughed at under any circumstances.

The composers include Elgar (x8), Holst, Britten (x2), Walton (x2), Alford (Bridge on the River Kwai aka Colonel Bogie), Coates (Dambusters), Parry (Jerusalem), Vaughan Williams (x5), Grainger (x2), Delius (x2), Warlock and Butterworth. Probably music for my parents' generation.

And yet - Elgar is fixed in my pantheon of heroes; Britten, Walton and Vaughan Williams are at least hon menshes. And Britten's Playful Pizzicato is one of the Great Tunes of all time. I listened to Disc One the night before England played Switzerland, and it fair stirred the soul, especially to hear Walton's "The Battle of Agincourt" - with an actor (sadly not Kenny Branagh nor dear Larry) reciting:

Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger...
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot!
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge,
Cry, "God for Harry! England and Saint George!

Although, I have to say I prefer

Holst and Mahler

Certainly if you are British you are incredibly familiar with The Planets, even if you don't know you are. But how many people can name many, any, other works by Holst?

The Planets is just one incredible piece of music. I particularly love Mars, the bringer of War, written, incidentally, in the summer of 1914; Jupiter, the bringer of Joy, and my choice for the new National Anthem - I Vow to Thee My Country, also known as the Rugby World Cup song, World in Union; and Saturn, the bringer of Old Age - very very Wagnerian - Holst was infatuated by Wagner.

The disc also contains Egdon Heath, which is pleasant without being especially memorable.

Mahler's Fifth Symphony followed in close proximity. The tape, at least fifteen years old, is showing signs of wear and tear. Will I replace it when it is chewed? I think so. I don't know this symphony as well as I ought to, considering it has been in my collection for at least fifteen years. I suspect that with repeated listening it could become embedded in me. It's pleasant, and lyrical, and is memorable for me because of the opening theme that repeats throughout. Being a Deutsche Grammophen production (Wiener Philharmoniker under Lenny Bernstein), it has detailed academic liner notes, which are a bitover my head, bt worth perusing.

Yup, I'll give it a few more listens; in the meantime, I have three years, eight months and five days to play the rest of my record collection!

Classic Ads

'2 ½ hours of classic themes and music made popular by TV ads'
£15.99 this cost me. It is such a naff concept, and I want to say I hate it, but let me play it and see what happens.

I put it on random play, and the first track to come on is Nessun Dorma sung by Luciano Pavarotti. Okay, this will, probably get me expelled from the Three Tenors Yahoo Group, but I really really don't like Pav's voice. Oh sure, he used to hit a few High Cs, but that isn't a sine qua non for me anyway. Sometimes when I hear him sing, I think, "Oh that's technically very good," but I don't want to think that when I hear a singer - I want an emotional reaction, I want a quasi-sexual reaction. You would think that Nessun Dorma is the only thing he's ever sung. Unfortunately not.

Lascia Ch'io Pianga by Handel, sung by Lesley Garratt is nearly beautiful, but Angela Gheorghiu and even Cecilia Bartoli sing it so much better in my Collection.

This sort of Collection comes into its own for introducing me to the wonders of Adiemus/Cantilena (Cheltenham & Gloucester ad), who we've now seen live, and Jimmy absolutely adored. And I would suggest it was worth buying for Vangelis's 1492: Conquest of Paradise (Smirnoff), and, another glorious discovery, the Kyrie from Ariel Ramirez's Misa Criolla, sung gorgeously by José Carreras. I do so love Josep's voice pre late 80s. I know it's a terrible thing to say, but he was never the same after the leukemia.

It also has the Pie Jesu from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Requiem, on which the singing of Barbara Bonney is an infinite improvement on the Sarah Brightman version we all love puke over. I thought I had a tape somewhere of ALW'S Requiem, but I can't find it. Maybe it was chewed up by a cassette player made ill by the odious Sarah BrightmanLloydWebber. I suppose I had a reason for buying it but buggered if I can remember what the reason was.

Most of the other tracks are okay, good or even very good pieces found better elsewhere in my collection, often in their proper context. But then, to really piss me off, they add in tracks such as Phat Planet by Leftfield, Open Heart Zoo, by Martin Grech whoever in ghastliness he might be (Lexus), the deeply irritating Slip Into Somthing More Comfortable - Kinobe (Magnum/Kronenbourg 1664), and the Renault Clio music by Robert Palmer, not exactly his masterwork. If I had wanted these in my collection, surely I would have bought 'Now That's What I Call Dull Repetitive Uninspiring Crap'

And Bond. They need shooting. The less said about this travesty the better....

And then, the amazing thing about this compilation it then plays Summertime sung by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, which is so many degrees of magnitude better than any other version in my collection, it entirely justifies the £15.99. And I don't think I have Ella's Someone to Watch Over Me elsewhere. What a luscious voice...

Well, that was an interesting experiment that turned into a pleasant surprise. It was just starting off with Nessun Fucking Dorma put me in a bad mood! Indeed, with the exception of the Renault Clio, and some Nocturne by Rolf Lavland (Blue Cross) the second disc is perfect for late at night: Britten's Playful Pizzicato; Joan Sutherland singing Casta Diva; Tchaikovsky's gorgeous Waltz of the Flowers; and Sarah Vaughan singing Make Yourself Comfortable...

On what frequency can I find Classic FM?

Liszt

I don't really like Liszt, so why I have this tape in my collection is a mystery. It comprises the first and second piano concerto and Totentanz. And, actually, it's not bad. ALthough, when the tape is eventually eaten up, I won't be in a hurry to replace it with a CD. That having been said, the second concerto could grow on me. There's some serious bass going on it. I think it's for this one that Liszt nicked whole chunks from Wagner (liszt was Wagner's father-in-law).

That old Catholic guilt thing

It probably gets really boring, me banging on and on about the same old CDs over-and-over again, but you have to understand that my life is very limited at the moment. Even a trip to a local Town Centre for a few shops leaves me exhausted. I took all of Sunday to recover from the excitement of the FA Cup Final, preceded by the Spanish Royal Wedding.

So I can only really blog about what happens in my internal world, dominated by CDs, DVDs, TV and the internet. Sorry...

It's probably not good to keep playing the same CD over-and-over again. But I want to. I love it - Beethoven's Christus am Ölberge.

Absolutely fab music - Beethoven at his underrated best, IMO. And three really fab singers. Okay, two, I think the Bass is good, not fab.

But my problem is, and this all stems back to the guilt brainwashed into me as part of my Catholic upbringing/education, that when I listen to music I really really like, it evokes in me an emotional and physical reaction, bordering on the erotic ie I'm sexually aroused.

But that can't be right - after all, this is sacred music. Passion, in this context, means Good Friday (actually, Maundy Thursday, if I remember my New Testament right...), and to be erotically stimulated by such music is very very bad.

Curse my Catholic guilt thing.

(Mind you my friend always claim to have a Jewish guilt thing, even though, technically she's not Jewish - her late father was - and she was brought up secular).

Various Arts Links

If only I'd had a rotten tomato - on ENO's Valkyrie

Fanfare for the common man - interview with Karl Jenkins

The overture to greatness - archive of letters about Glyndebourne.

Portrait of a lady - preview and review of Arabella...tonight!

Carmen at ENO - in two weeks!

Reviews of Carmen and Opera North's touring Eight Little Greats
Feature on Leonard Cohen, Buddhist monk

Interview with the wonderful Marian Keyes - poised on the dividing line between chick lit and literature, IMO.

Maxwell Davies Masses

The other night on the phone, my mother and I were happily slagging off Peter Maxwell Davies, then she pointed out to me he has a new CD out conducted by the lovely Martin, first love of my life (1984).

Would it be very sad to buy it, even though I don't like Peter Maxwell Davies - but the Guardian calls these 'among his most approachable works'.

It's one thing collecting CDs where Martin is playing the organ - Taverner's Akathist of Thanksgiving and, er, Princess Diana's funeral (TV audience 4 billion) - but probably a bit sad buying a CD where he's conducting...

Elgar

I like Elgar, I know I do. I was brought up on Elgar. I have a CD, part of my four box set of English composers. It includes the Cockaigne Overture, Introduction and Allegro for Strings, Serenade for String Orchestra and Enigma Variations. Admittedly it was on whilst I was reading through the archive posts of a Yahoo Group I have just joined. But., still, the only piece that stirred me was Nimrod.

Ah well, another time.

Incidentally, regarding Dissing Delius, my mother mentioned on the phone last night that my father hated Delius.

Dissing Delius

You know, it's a bit silly me blogging the pop/rock records disc-by-disc-by-cassette, and not doing the same with my classical ones.

So, deep breath and here goes. Although not the ones I play spontaneously, because that would become a little bit repetitive...

I'm reclining on the sofa playing Demon Patience on my palm, and listening to Fred Delius, part of a four disc boxset I acquired the other week from WH Smith. I am not very familiar with Fred, and I'm not really surprised.

Paris: The Song of a Great City and On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring bored me. In A Summer Garden and The Walk to the Paradise Garden weren't much better.

I can understand why other people like Brigg Fair: An English Rhapsody - it has moments of lyricism, and other moments of plush orchestration. But moments don't a whole piece make and I can leave it. Summer Night on the River is just awful.

Classical classics

I have been playing an interesting CD on repeat for the past twenty four hours (on-and-off, obviously...). The Artist's Album - Herbert von Karajan.

A curious album. I suspect it has not received as much playing as it ought to have in the five years or so I have owned it. The packaging is excellent - basically a CD-case sized book, full of glossy photos and hagiography in three languages. The actual CD holder is just an envelope stuck to the inside back cover.

People say that von Karajan was the greatest conductor ever; him or Richard Wagner. Who can tell? Certainly not me, that's for sure. But I do have quite a lot of von Karajan in my collection. And this album is overall very nice.

Especially lushly gorgeous are the Finale from Das Rheingold and the Presentation of the Rose from Der Rosenkavalier. This is what makes me think the CD is underplayed, because, as you know, I've only recently got inot Wagner, but the Rhinegold finale is so gorgeous, surely if I had heard it enough times, I would have explored further.

And the Presentation of the Rose...what can I say...justifiably one of the most loved duets in the entire cannon. My parents attended Der Rosenkavalier to celebrate their engagement. On the 25th anniversary, my father bought my mother some silver rose earrings. That is romance...

Over the past few weeks I have also jotted down a less-than-exhaustive list of tunes which have grabbed me:

• Enigma Variations - specifically Nimrod - Elgar. Lyrical and climatical
• Kinderscenen - Schumann. I am currently undergoing a sort of yearning for Schumann. As a youngster he fascinated me -as much the person as the music - then as I grew older he faded from my radar, but I am enjoying listening to the few pieces of his in my collection.
• Symphony No 94 "Surprise" - Haydn.

The Armed Man and Adiemus

Saturday evening found us at the Royal Festival Hall for Karl Jenkins' 60th birthday concert.

We started by eating in the People's Palace - what a fab name for a restaurant. We had an excellent view overlooking the Thames, even though there was something weird in the weather - there was a mist that hung over London that seemed autumnal in its content. No sky was visible, yet, conversely it was not an unpleasant evening. The food was first rate, although I would say slightly pricey.

We spent an enjoyable half hour people-watching from the Terrace. So many people were strolling along the riverside, and it was deeply entertaining to watch them.

Then into the concert hall. The concert was sponsored by Classic FM and, I suspect, rather a large part of the audience was from the Classic FM/Daily Mail classes. There were lots of kids, which I always find encouraging.

The concert was conducted by Karl Jenkins, only the second time I have witnessed a composer conducting his work (The first was about twenty years ago when I took my little brother to the ballet Cinderella composed and conducted by Joseph Horovitz). When he came onto the stage the applause was enthusiastic and there was even some cheering.

The Armed Man was utterly fantastic. I absolutely adore this piece, and it struck me, while I was listening, that it is rare that I am so familiar with a piece being performed that I know exactly what note, with what nuance on what instrument is coming next. I have only two criticisms - one, I was disappointed that in the whole of Londonistan it hadn't been possible to find a genuine muezzin to sing the Call to Prayer, and I was disappointed that the soloists used microphones, although they did look very young, and the orchestra - the London Phil - was gloriously loud.

Despite listening to the CD it had never previously struck me how much the score is dominated by the percussion and brass, with the strings and woodwind, on the whole, acting merely as accompanists. I am a percussion fanatic so I was delighted to see such intelligent and exciting use of a wide range of instruments.

The applause at the end was enthusiastic, but yet, somewhat reserved. It took until the fourth bow for someone to start a standing ovation, and that was by no means universal. I was imagining the Daily Mail/Classic FM classes being deeply embarrassed by a show of emotion - if you can't react emotionally to passionate music, what hope is there?

The second half featured a selection of songs from Adiemus Live! A couple of them are very familiar from Classical Chillout and adverts. Both of us thoroughly enjoyed it (Jimmy especially enjoyed the seven Finnish women singers - I told him you're not supposed to fancy the singers...!)

Soloists included Pamela Thorby on recorders and gemshorn, Nigel Hitchcock on sax (I'm sorry but however good he may be, he was definitely the weakest link - neither of us like unmelodic jazz), Martin Taylor on guitar and Catrina Finch playing Tros y garreg for harp and orchestra.

I have not really paid much attention to Adiemus before, but I would definitely say this is the epitome of where crossover works. I generally want people to stick to their genre (I don't want to hear Bryn Terfel singing Anarchy in the UK nor do I want to hear Billy Bragg sing Nessum Dorma, nor do I want to hear a symphony based on the works of Queen). However, when the actual music is a fusion of rock and classical, it strikes me right there. In the final piece - Songs of the Plains (Delta Airlines ad) - I wanted to get up and dance, but didn't want to be the first. Nevertheless I sashayed and tapped in my seat and saw around me people motionless. Boring sods....! I would love to hear that piece performed by a gospel chorus - I think it would work twice as well.

Again, at the end, the applause was more muted than it ought to have been, and barely a quarter of the stalls/terrace joined in standing ovation. Perhaps the cheap seats in the balcony had risen as one. One couple unfurled a Welsh flag. I hope I don't cause offence to my lovely Welsh readers, but what is it? In a city where there are 200 nationalities, what's the Welsh thing? I have witnessed Americans at performances by Americans, Koreans at performances by Koreans, Hungarians at performances by Hungarians, Russians at performances by Russians etc etc etc etc and they haven't found it necessary to unfurl their national flags.

A birthday message from Prince Charles was read out. I thought if he was really bothered he would have been there -as usual, the Royal Box was empty. And let's hope he gets onto his mother and tells her that The Armed Man - A Mass for Peace is, in itself, demanding of a knighthood. The orchestra, singers and audience united to sing Happy Birthday.

I thoroughly enjoyed it, Jimmy thoroughly enjoyed it and the ten year old boy next to me was absolutely wowed. I told him it's not often you get to see the composer conducting his own works - when he's an old man he'll tell his grandchildren.

I can't finish this piece without making a special mention of the lighting. I have often enjoyed the lighting in opera, ballet, rock, and straight theatre, but this is the first time in a classical concert that I have enjoyed the lighting for its own sake, let alone the enhancement it gave to an already excellent performance.

CDs on constant loop

Yes, I'll really get my entire CD and tape collection played by forty if I insist on playing the same eight CDs over and again. Seven of them are, in case you're in the slightest bit interested:

• The Armed Man: A Mass For Peace - Karl Jenkins: one of the two astonishingly great pieces of British music of the 21st century, the other being Thomas Ades' The Tempest
• Wagner Love Duets - Plácido Domingo and Deborah Voight: for all you Wagner-haters out there, this is incredibly sexy music, featuring Act 2, Scene 3 from Siegfried and Act 2 Scene 2 from Tristan und Isolde
• The Very Best of Maria Callas - fabulous!
• The Very Best of Plácido Domingo - utterly wonderful, but it's a bit early to decide what is the very best (!)
• Renee Fleming's Greatest Hits - ooh she's wonderful and gorgeous
• Italian Opera Arias - Rolando Villazon - everytime I play this I am amazed at how good it is, and wonder just how much better he is going to get!
• Beethoven's 5th and 7th, but mainly 5th - Carlos Kleiber and the Wiener Philharmoniker - can this be any more perfect?

The final one is Beethoven's Christus am Olberge - Plácido Domingo, Luba Organasova, Andreas Schmidt, Rundfunkchor Berlin and Deutches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin under Kent Nagano - this is Beethoven's one and only oratorio, and I didn't even know until a few weeks ago that he even wrote an oratorio (in youthful idealism I declared oratorio to be the most perfect form of music; perhaps I still believe that...). It's quite fascinating, because he was clearly influenced by Handel and Haydn, and blatantly stole Mozart's one-and-only tune. I particularly adore the Terzetto, or Trio.

O Menschenkinder fasset
dies heilige Gebot:
liebt jenen, der euch hasset,
nur so gefalt ihr Gott!

Dylan Moran says there's a lot of poetry in German if you have extensive dentistry, but even I can see the poetry in that, without dentistry and without speaking a word of German...

Ten truths about classical music

I cut and pasted this from somewhere and can't remember where...

But I thought it was quite fun.

1. Mozart really does all sound the same.
2. Beethoven's Grosse Fuge is just plain ugly.
3. Wagner's operas are much better with cuts.
4. No one cares about the first three movements of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique.
5. Schoenberg's music never sounds more attractive, no matter how many times you listen to it.
6. Schumann's orchestration definitely needs improvement.
7. Bruckner couldn't write a symphonic allegro to save his life.
8. Liszt is trash.
9. The so-called "happy" ending of Shostakovich's Fifth is perfectly sincere.
10. It's a good thing that "only" about 200 Bach cantatas survive.

Some I agree with, the rest, I'm insufficiently informed to form an opinion.

Easter Music

The post next but one below was supposed to be about a couple of CDs I found when putting away a few dozen that had been lying around. Easter Hymn and Alleluia - Sacred Music, both of which are, sadly, discontinued.

Although as CDs they date from the mid-90s, they predominantly feature recordings from the 60s and 70s - perhaps they were cheap, which was important to me in my constantly cash-strapped 20s.

The first one opens with Mascagni's Easter Hymn - Regina coeli - from Cavelleria Rusticana, a tune I fell in love with in my teens. For years it has reminded me of Verdi's Va Pensiero (chorus of Hebrew Slaves) from Nabucco, although may I venture to say that I actually prefer it. It has only just occurred to me that it must have been inspired by Va Pensiero. Cav was written in 1880; Nabucco considerably earlier; significantly it was the rallying anthem for Italian Unification, which had occurred in 1870. I decided as a teenager that if had children, my first daughter would be called Santuzza.

Joan Sutherland singing Casta Diva from Bellini's Norma is breath catchingly exquisite; and Kiri Te Kanawa sings Ave Maria from Otello gorgeously (better than I heard Renee Fleming sing live the other week? I don't know). Of course, if I had listened to this other than every other Easter, I might have realised a few years earlier how wonderful Wagner is. Especially the Pilgrims' chorus from Tannhauser. Ho hum.

On the second CD, I note that one of the singers is called Sieglinde Wagner. A bit of googling reveals that she died a couple of months ago and she was no relation to Richard Wagner. Therefore, her parents' choice of name must enter the list of names that signify utter parental cruelty - Sieglinde is one of the main characters in the valkyrie.. What would have happened if she hadn't turned out to be a singer?

One of the highlights is from Haydn's Creation. I know it as The Heavens Are Telling, but, as this is in German, it is "Die Himmel erzahlen die Ehre Gottes". When I was at school we used to have a Speech Night at the Free Trade Hall - oh the stories I could tell...! One of the highlights was the music; people used to join the choir especially as a way to survive Speech Night. The orchestra and each of Junior and Senior Choirs performed, then followed the musical high-spot of the entire school year - joint orchestra and choir. I recall this with enormous joy. It was the last time I was in the choir for the joint - every year subsequently I was orchestra. This was also the last time I sang soprano, because I was becoming a contralto. Which was unfortunate, because sopranos get the melody and contraltos have to be musically gifted and guess the harmony. I am currently baritone, heading for bass-baritone (I jest, slightly...). I don't think I know the Creation as well as I ought to. Actually, not at all...

Just listening through, I pondered on the role of compilations in a record collection. I know someone who has absolutely no compilations. I can't help thinking that his approach to collecting music is too organised and dry, whereas the plethora of compilations in my collection suggest an impulsive ill thought-out approach. I look at a lot of compilations now with a sense of depression. Not because they contain bad music, but because they all seem to comprise pretty much the same tracks. But these two CDs, containing nearly fifty pieces between them, have only about ten compilation standards.

I think the beauty of well-thought out compilations is that they introduce you to music that you wouldn't normally know; they give an opportunity to listen to the very best by third or fourth division composers who do not merit a whole CD; and they demonstrate how different can be the interpretations of the standards. The challenge is to identify the best version in your collection of a particular song. I think the Mozart Ave Verum Corpus here may be the best I own.

All the records before forty...

Just a reminder that I am set on playing my entire music collection before 6 February 2008. I would be progressing well if it wasn't for distractions. Distractions such as overwhelming desire to play something out of my carefully designed sequence. Or the need to play certain records twice. Yesterday it was Billy Bragg (I have a post currently in draft). Or The Essential Music of America, which is out of print.

As a teenager I declared that all the decent classical music of the Twentieth Century was written by Americans. Of course, that is pretty much tosh. But still, there's some jolly good music on this. I have long been sort-of a fan of Aaron Copland. Sort-of as in, I have quite a few of his works, although I know very little about him, and I often forget how much I really like his stuff. This is a two-CD set, with plenty of Copland, Gershwin and Bernstein. I have played the first disc twice. The highlight has to be Bernstein's Symphonic Dances from West Side Story. West Side Story is truly a masterpiece, anyway, but what I like about this is the amazing contrast between the dissonant syncopation of the early section with the haunting lyricism of  'Somewhere'. (So now I shall have to play my West Side Story highlights completely out of sequence...)

And I do love the marches of Sousa - on this compilation we have Stars and Stripes Forever and Washington Post. At Primary School Mr Unsworth used to have us walking into assembly to Stars and Stripes Forever (when he wasn't subversively playing us the theme from Monty Python).

I also love Moross's theme from The Big Country. Although I have never seen the film and haven't a clue what it's about, the music suggests to me extraordinarily open countryside. Prairies, perhaps, although I have never seen a prairie in my life. I am actually on a horse at this precise moment sweeping through the long grass of the prairie, the wind in my hair, and freedom...

Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue is an all-time classic. My friend Mike declared that he would have it played at his funeral. So I was kind of disappointed when he had George Michael instead.  Although I really don't like Jazz, I do like the way Gershwin uses the jazz idiom to create sublime music, that sounds fresh and modern eighty years after it was written. I especially love the brass con sordino, and the rhythm that just for a moment makes me think that I can dance other than as an Eighties Pop Tart.

The second disc, which isn't as good as the first, finishes with three traditional songs from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir - down by the Riverside, When the Saints, and Battle Hymn of the Republic. These are best listened to in dim lights, but are just fab anytime - fantastic harmonies and syncopations.

I went on a night-time of Washington DC - going from memorial to memorial. I particularly like the Lincoln Memorial - although I haven't been to the FDR, which, reportedly, is the only one of the memorials with proper disabled access (ought to have, really...!) - it wasn't built on my first visit, and it didn't cross our minds on our second visit.

Anyway,  the coach driver played an equally haunting version of Battle Hymn of the Republic, which was particularly evocative as we were driving away from the Lincoln Memorial. I was the expert on American Political history, much to the puzzlement of my many American companions. I kept shtum that I had just completed a Politics degree under an America-obsessed Prof.

The Gettysburg address, one of the greatest pieces of writing in the English language, is remarkable for its brevity. And supreme irony:

The world will little note nor long remember what we say here

The only known photo of Abraham Lincoln

English Music, Scottish Orchestra

It's nice that we let the colonials come to our capital to play our music...

It was all right, but nothing special. Bit of Elgar, bit of Vaughan Williams. Elgar cello concerto was played by Ralph Kirshbaum. At the end, the woman next-door-but-one to me said to her companion, on my immediate left "Bring back Jacqueline du Pre" I felt like tapping her on the shoulder and saying "You know she carped it a good while back," but didn't. A bit uncharitable in her judgement, but the performance failed to move me.

I haven't a clue what makes a good conductor or a bad conductor, other than an instinct. That instinct told me that tonight's conductor, Joseph Swenson, was really nothing special. And I mean, really.

The music was okay, but I did feel a little bit like I was applauding out of good manners, rather than enthusiasm. Which was a shame, because the music as written - Elgar's Introduction and Allegro for Strings, and Cello Concerto in E minor, and Vaughan Williams' Symphony in D major (no. 5) are very pleasant, lyrical pieces. I just think they could have been performed with a bit more feeling.

Or maybe it was just me; maybe everyone else really enjoyed it. Maybe it's my fault that the music didn't speak to me. I suspect I wasn't alone, though.

Still, I'd far rather spend an evening hearing pleasant tunes being played in a mediocre fashion than sitting at home staring at walls.

The good, the brilliant and the ghastly

Tonight to the Royal Festival Hall for the Philharmonia Orchestra under Christoph von Dohnanyi.

The concert ended with Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. I'm not even going to attempt to describe the music, when EM Forster said

It will be generally admitted that Beethoven's Fifth Symphony is the most sublime noise that has ever penetrated into the ear of man...Gusts of splendour, gods and demigods contending with vast swords, colour and fragrance broadcast on the fields of battle, magnificent victory, magnificent death!

Unfortunately, my tape of it is going fast-and-slow at the same time - evidence of overplay in my youth - which is why it is in a basket in the fireplace rather than on the shelves (don't ask...). However, nice Mr Amazon has been contacted...

I always feel slightly anxious when a really familiar piece begins, and I wonder what is this conductor/orchestra going to make of it. Fortuntaely, they were truly splendid, and I spent most of the symphony with a smile on my face, a smile of unadulterated bliss. But it was way too short, the minutes seemed to pass as seconds. In the fourth movement - you know, in that really famous bit, when the strings fall and the brass rises in an imperial fashion, I felt an almost irresistable urge to throw my clothes off and dance. You may be relieved to know that I didn't.

The only percussion Beethoven used in this was timpani, yet he used them magnificently, as musical instruments forming an integral part of the tune and the orchestra. Soemtimes I wonder if it makes me a bit of Phillistine that some of the music I love the most is some of the most popular in the canon, but then I think, I am only reflecting the judgements of great musicians and of people far more knowledgable than myself.

The question has to be asked "Does anybody actually like Shostakovich?" His Symphony No 1 bored me rigid. Sure, it had a fine array of percussion - timpani, snare drum, bass drum, gong, glockenspiel - but they were just there for effect. Each movement seemed to last a lifetime, and I noticed around me much fidgeting and shuffling. The applause at the end was polite rather than enthusiastic.

The middle piece was Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor, the main reason I booked this concert. I deceided a couple of months back that Mendelssohn is a seriously underrated composer in my mind. Of course, when the soloist Vadim Repin, all the way from Siberia, played the first few notes, I realised that i actually know every note of this concerto. I have it on a tape by Nigel Kennedy, coupled with the Bruch. I think I was seduced into buying the tape at a young age because Nigel Kennedy was a hot celebrity. I grew to love both pieces.

In conclusion, I enjoyed the evening, even though it confirmed to me that I really don't like Shostakovich.

Various bits of aural indulgence

This is the bit where I am going through my classical record collection to try and draw up a ''top twenty' (or whatever). This post has been hanging around for a few weeks now, but as I'm about to work methodically through all my Mozart CDs, it's probably time I posted it. (I intend to finish this project in time for my fortieth birthday).

Badiniere from Suite No.2 in B minor - Bach, although I prefer the version by James Galway that my sister had on record when we were kids
Intermezzo (First Movement) from Karelia Suite - Sibelius
Brahms's Second Piano concerto in B flat major op. 83 has long been one of my favourite pieces. This is perfect music to make one feel very sexy, especially the dramatic opening - and, let's face it, ultimately, that's the whole point of music*. Plus I have a fetish for Deutsche Grammophon packaging - its yellow is as evocative as a Penguin paperback.

Faure's Requiem. Tranquility. Every time I hear something by Faure I keep thinking I must get more into him. but this is the only disc in my collection apart from a few snatches on compilations. Especially, Sanctus, Pie Jesu and Agnus Dei

Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor Op.64. I am currently listening to a version I taped off my Dad's record. I only have the Andante, with Yehudi Menuhin and the Philharmonia under Efrem Kurtz. You know, this exercise is demonstrating that Mendelssohn is the most underrated composer featuring insufficiently in my record collection.

And then I find a surprise in my collection, something I had totally forgotten I had, largely because I have different version on CD, and CD redundifies tape, especially a tape taped off an album from Nottingham Central Library in about 1989. Beethoven's ninth, a symphony much bigger than words can ever express, and quite possibly the one piece I would take on my desert island. And I'm having one of those tricky but fab - because I don't have to choose - dilemmas: was Beethoven, in fact, greater than Mozart?

Trumpet Voluntary by Jeremiah Clarke

* I jest

Brahms's beard

I noticed this programme billed in the Radio Times. One of the luxuries of being at home and lethargic is that after you have struggled the ten yards to the newsagent and back, to pick up (ssssh) 60 cigarettes, a King Size Mars Bar and a Radio Times, there is nothing else to do but recline on the sofa eating said Mars Bar, chain smoking said cigarettes andreading the Radio Times in minute detail. Still, I think a whole programme devoted to whether we would change our perception of Brahms if he hadn't had a beard is going a bit far. Like, in those days, all men had beards, didn't they? More interesting is the Simon Rattle phenomenon, otherwise known as Classical Music Hair

Deutschland uber Alles..or not?

On my journey through my record collection, I am currently playing a selection of Haydn String Quartets. Most outstanding is Opus 76 No 3 in C, especially the second movement akaThe Emperor aka a lot else.

The German National Anthem to be precise.

I thought it always has been the German National Anthem. Or, at least, since the days of the glorious but doomed Weimar Republic.

I fell in love with the piece when we sang it in school choir with the words Praise the Lord. My parents really didn't like me playing it; for years I thought their objection was solely to my appalling playing.

Jan Morris links it with Deutschland, Deutschland uber Alles.

There is a bit of history here and here. Customarily, only the third verse is sung these days, to avoid the connotations of Deutschland, Deutschland uber Alles.

When England play Germany at football, of course I am fired up with a deep hope that our boys will win the match - for, of course, Germany are formidable opponents on the football field, and a victory over them is more satisfying than one over an indifferent team - yet I yearn for an National Anthem as exquisitely beautiful as theirs. Even though Haydn was inspired by the dirge-like God Save the King to write this...

The recording I have is strange. I use the word exquisite again to describe the interpretation by the Lindsays. However, it is a live recording in front of an audience in the Wigmore Hall. Somebody sneezes, and at times it sounds as if the person holding the microphone is sniffing sonorously snottily. I'm not sure of the advantage of 'live' recordings of chamber music.

Next month I shall be attending my first ever Wagnerian opera - Das Rheingold. I don't suppose I shall abe able to close my mind to the political subtext, although I understand that Parsifal is the one that has been interpreted as being the inspiration for Nazi-ism - Wagner and anti-semitism; So what is the message of Parsifal; Parsifal and Race; and Wagner Chronology

Daniel Barenboim conducted Wagner in Israel.

Gorgeousness repeated

Constantly played over the weekend Brahms Symphony No 1. I think it might be this version. It's certainly von Karajan and the Berliner Philharmoniker, and I probably got it around 1990,but without going to the magical-cupboard-in-the-bedroom to examine the vinyl sleeve, I can't be totally sure.

It's so tuneful!

Blurb here and here.

You know, I am absolutely conviced it was inspired by the majestic architecture of Cologne Cathedral, but having never been to Cologne, or anywhere in Germany, except the singularly depressing Frankfurt airport, I must be wrong, especially since I know nothing about music, so I must be confusing it with Schumann's third symphony.

Shattered Illusion

I'm working at home today - I've got that sort of slightly unwellness that isn't sufficient to justify sickleave but reduces the impetus to actually getoutof the house.

I have a 3-CD compilation set on. Classical Gold, full of fairly serious music, none of this "Some geezer wrote this for an ad about five years ago so we're sure you'll enjoy it" crap.

So I was slightly surprised to hear a piece that sounded distinctively Oirish fiddledee. I checked on the CD cover and it turns out it's the Gigue bit of Pachabel's Canon and Gigue. Wow! exclaimed I. Pachabel was really O'Pachabel.

Then I thought a bit more. what does "Gigue" sound like? "Jig". I had a romantic notion that the roots of the Irish jig lay in far distant celtic, pagan roots, but it may be that it was just an import from 17th Century Continental Europe.

BTW, I am sick and tired of searching for music, or books or somesuch on Google, and being directed to a wholeload to a crappy sites that actually have no connection to the product they ostensibly sell, but are just trying to sell you credit, or cheap flights, or matters unthinkable. It is vastly reducing the usability of Google.

On the walkman

Stuck in my hotel room, with lots of work to do, I decided to enjoy myself by listening to a selection of CDs I had brought with me. Listening on a Walkman often makes the music more personal and direct. (Having an earphone makes my right ear slightly hurty as well, but c'est la vie).

I listened to this 5-CD set I picked up for a snip. It's kind of weird, combining the instantly recognisable with a few obscure pieces, and almost without exception, by obscure orchestras and soloists. A bit hit-and-miss, such as when Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance is played by the 'Marine Concert Band' and you just know that most of them are AWOL ( I have a different version where the organ comes in at full throttle and with total splendour).

Nevertheless, I took the opportunity to make a note of a few more pieces to be considered for my All-Time Favourite list.

Mendelssohn's Overture, The Hebrides (Fingal's Cave);
Mozart's Overture, Marriage of Figaro
Handel's Ombra Mai Fu (the Largo from Serse/Xerxes. All I have to decide is which version in my collection I like the most - various instrumental versions, or one of the versions with singing by Kathleen Ferrier, Plácido Domingo or Bryn Terfel.
Waltz of the Flowers - Tchaikovsky
Mendelssohn's Symphony No 4 (Italian) - 1st movement
Brahms's Lullaby. Probably the first tune I ever learnt, thanks to the wonderful cot mobile sent to me when I was born by my Auntie Imelda, then in New York, now in Florida.

Currently on repeat play on the CD player Queireme Mucho, a Chrimbo pressie from my sister. Favourite tracks (at the moment) - Cocula, Frio frio and Flor De Azalea/No Me Quieras Tanto/Piel Canela.

Music on the TV

A few highlights of this week's viewing. My god, I'm turning into a telly addict.

Nabucco, the highlights being an evil but beautiful Abigaile by Ghena Dimitrova, and the evocative Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves - actually this looks like a nice little Naxos compilation for a fiver.

Ravel's Bolero and Strauss II's Radetsky March in this exuberant concert. Those of us above a certain age will know Bolero from 10, or from Ice Dancing's supreme perfect moment from 1984.

However, neither of these interpretations do justice to an amazingly erotic and intelligent piece of music which enables all sections of the orchestra to show off, but especially the percussion. I never got to play side drum in this...

Radetsky March is another great percussionist's piece. Second only, perhaps, to Donner und Blitzen for its cymbal part - it was almost a disappointment to be promoted to timpani for this one. Deep meaning - none, it's just a pile of fun. (Actually, that's not quite true it was written to commemorate a military victory of historical importance for Austrians).

You know, this blog used to be political...

My Favourite Tunes

This is a work in progress

I am trying to do an updated list of tunes (and I do like that word, say it out loud a few times) that speak to me in a way I can't explain. About four years ago I went through a process of identifying about 100 songs that withstood repeated playing, and whittled it down on the eve of the Millennium to a top twenty, which then expanded by 10%. However, it is a narrow list, containing only stuff from the pop charts and covering little more than my lifetime.

I am trying to play through my entire record collection, which is difficult when I am playing the same few records over and over again. But, I swear, by the time I am forty, I will have done so!

I shall provide links, where possible, to the actual version of the tune as appears in my record collection, but there may be better ones out there.

So far, fall-in-love songs of Autumn 2003:

Benedictus from The Armed Man - A Mass For Peace - here you can hear a short excerpt of Hayley Westenra attempting to ruin it.

Bist du bei mir - Play Track 8 here - but it sounds a million times much better on my stereo than on Real Player from my PC *sigh*. And this excerpt does little to capture the sheer - I'm tempted to say sexiness, but it's not quite the right word - of the overall effect.

Bist du bei mir

Blogging is actually about logging links to useful pages one has read on the net. I happen to think that Bist du bei mir is a very sexy song.

File under wedding plans.

September, maybe. Brixton, or maybe Peckham, registry office.

Hard to please

I was at the Festival Hall Last night for the Philharmonia conducted by Andras Schiff. The programme was Mozart's Symphony 25 in G minor; Mendelssohn's Piano Concerto No 2 n D minor; and Haydn's Symphony No 104 in D (London). All perfectly pleasant pieces, all quite jolly.

But I didn't come away with any great sense of excitement or passion. It might have been because I was sitting in the gods - not a good choice, I think. Or maybe it was because it was the night of the coughs. There was a very irritating woman who didn't seem able to stop coughing, especially during the slow movements. Shame she was sitting in my seat...Another woman actually left the hall for coughing and there came a point in the Haydn where I think half the audience just gave up any attempts to stop coughing. A couple of the orchestra also seemed to be drinking water at every opportunity. I think I shall conclude that although the 25th may be the first of Mozart's 'mature' (he was 17 when he wrote it...) symphonies, its pleasantness is without doubt, and I had a minor fit "Not another fucking 40" as I searched for a presumably long-ago chewed tape of it, I won't be in a hurry to replace it in my collection.

Although I think I am possibly listening to the worst ever 40, sounding like it was recorded onto Memorex tape from the other side of the room from a dodgy mono Autochanger record player - Von Karajan conducting the Orchestra Sinfonica di Torino dell'Eiar. Christ in a basket it was recorded in October 1942, and the one side of sleeve notes are in Spanish. Only. God knows where that CD came from. I wonder if I paid money for it? Good money? I bet it was only the reserves of the Orchestra, too. Ooh, look, the only bit of English says

Due to the antiquity of the Original Masters, we kindly ask the listener to understand that some of the pieces may present some deficiencies in the sound.

Actually, it may not be as Wolfgang, Herbert or God intended, but, you know, it has a certain charm... (the disc also contains 35 and 41)

Currently listening to...

The Joy of Christmas -a superb superb double CD I picked up by accident many years ago. It comes out every year. It combines the best traditional Christmas Carols with proper arrangements by David Willcocks and others (incidentally he's conducting some carols at St Martin in the Fields next Tuesday; I'm elsewhere); and some of the classics of the classical repertoire with a (sometimes tenuous) connection to Christmas.

This, along with candles, signifies the positive and exciting aspect of Christmas. The commercialism and the crap I would rather do without.

The pianist is dressed by...

The Telegraph reviews a recital by Leif Ove Andsnes, whom I heard a couple of weeks ago, and like me, they also draw attention to his tailor.

In case you should ever need to know, Leif Ove Andsnes's biography, as printed in the programme book for this recital, now credits the supplier of his concert dress.

Gert's guide...

Clair asks in the comments below:

I've never been to see anything remotely classical....what would you recommend as your favourite piece/person/composer etc. to introduce to new people.

Which I think is a bloody good question.

The simple answer would be to go to something with which you're familiar, perhaps from your record collection.

Years ago one friend asked another friend and myself how to start a collection of classical music. My recommendation was to get compilation discs. The purists would sniff, but sod the purists. The other friend set about to compile a list of definitive pieces. We argued. But the two of them got married so it became an irrelevant issue. They have since divorced, so I don't know where that leaves them.

Amazon are currently recommending 100 Popular Classics and The Only Classical Album You'll Ever Need, both at £8.99. You could do a lot worse than purchase these. The first has so many tracks I expect they're old recordings of obscure performers. No matter. The second has thirty one tracks, performed by a collection of top names.

I have various compilations, including Cinema Classics -  there are 59 to choose from on Amazon; Classical  Chillout, which are deliberately compiled to include pieces that people are familiar with from TV, film, adverts etc

I started building my collection haphazardly. Most of what my parents had when I was in my teens was on 78s, which is a tiresome format. I think while we were growing up there really wasn't the money to be spent on records, which were relatively expensive - a vinyl LP in the 80s cost in cash terms pretty much what you would pay for a non-chart CD now.

I developed my taste partly by being in school choir/orchestra etc and by doing music at O Level.  So the first classical record I bought was Schumann's Kinderscenen because it was the first piece we studied on our syllabus.

As for concerts,  the Guardian has a list of venues in London and outside

Just picking the Barbican's December programme, I don't think anybody can not like The Messiah - (although it clashes with Planning Committee).

Around Christmas, most concert halls put on programmes of popular or short pieces. They tend to be aimed at schoolies, so you have to put up with large quantities of children, but can be fun.  I went to quite a few of these in my youth. The Mozart by Candlelight looks fun, but I shall probably be at Mother's then. However, the Bridgewater Hall has two excellent concerts that day, either of which I would recommend to a novice.

A lot of concerts try to combine a well-known piece, to draw people in, combined with something lesser known. My general advice would be not to spend too much money on going to see a star name - says me who's spending silly money to see/hear Murray Perahia in a programme of less than an hour's duration! This ticket is twice the price of last night's. 

There are sometimes freebies available from the BBC

The other consideration is where to sit. I spent my entire youth in the cheap seats in the balcony at the Free Trade Hall. First my sister, then I,  were members of the Halle Concerts Society, which meant that we got priority booking, and were rarely unable to get seats in the middle of the first or second row. This gave a wonderful view of the orchestra - I always have to see the percussion, my sister had a thing about conductors - and a fairly decent sound, although the FTH was criticised for its poor acoustics.  The circle tends to be the most expensive.

Of course, this is just my inexpert view and very Brit-centred - although I'm sure the same principles apply in much of the Western world and beyond.