Jimmy's late sister's widower is on a flying visit. A very nice man, but a religious nutter. I have never met the man before. He has been here five hours, which is not part of my plans for today - we only found out yesterday he was in the country.
It's not the religious nuttery as such; I can talk as much as the next person on what is essentially gossip; I'm more than prepared to chat about visits to various churches and holy places, especially when I'm also talking about things that may not be of any great interest to the other person.
But when we went from CHIP-and-PIN to God has told us not to have chips embedded in our foreheads to euthanasia to abortion to women politicians being the agent of the devil, I put my foot down. This does not happen in my home. I tend to avoid arguments on such subjects with people whose views are entirely immutable, and I certainly don't stand for being lectured about the evils of whatever it is, especially from someone who is so out of touch of reality it's unbelievable. Well, I'll stop there. Not my place to wash my partner's family's dirty linen in public. On the other hand, religious nuttery aside, surely it's plain bad manners to go round to someone's house and insult them. Perhaps he doesn't think that a sentence that begins "I've got nothing against women but..." is an insult, but I think it is. I made it clear we don't do hatred in Gert Cottage (we criticise we piss-take we oppose but the only thing we hate is hatred itself).
Now I can get on with some of the things I intended to do five hours ago.
The great thing about Cardiff Singer of the Year - and similar shows - is that you start off with a list of 25 almost unknown names. I recognised three names from appearances in London, and a further one from blogging, but I had no clear idea of what any of them was like. There is a little niggle in the back of your head, that we are being served with 25 singers who might all combine all the merits of provincial, generic, comprimario and routine. And just a week later, it is easy to identify some real about-to-be-stars and a bunch more of singers who will be a pleasure to hear, even if not a 'draw' in their own right.
I was delighted that Jacques Imbrailo won the Audience Prize. To me, it made sense to vote for someone not in the Final, and it seems that the Great British Public had the same idea.
I never had any doubt in mind that Shen Yang was going to win. Well, not until the moment when John fisher from WNO went on at great length in Welsh before announcing the winner! In the heat shown on Wednesday he gave me that 'wow' factor within 30 seconds. Come the two finals, Song and Grand, my expectations were higher, so the wow was different. I was very impressed by his Song Prize recital, but agree that Liz Watts was a worthy winner.
The Final with full orchestra was an hour and a half of pure pleasure and entertainment. There wasn't one singer performing who doesn't fill me with delight. I think it would have been very difficult to choose between the four runners up, they had their strengths and weaknesses. Of the four, I thought that Liz Watts was clearly the one most finished and ready now. I thought Miranda Keys is so obviously going to be a great Brunnhilde, etc in ten years time; Levente Molnar gave a quite different impression in the Final than the heat - in retrospective it seemed his attitude was that he was there for the experience- to learn,to entertain and to enjoy himself, rather than believing he could win. And it was obviously quite a shock to realise that he was the Final. Dramatically, he impressed me the most. Some people have suggested his heat was a bit inyerface showy, but I think he proved in the final that he is a man of substance.
Maria Isabel Vera impressed me much more in the Final than the heats, and I am now clearer about the force of her voice. Mary King and Tony Pappano were both of the view that singing four arias was one too many. To me, it seemed that in choosing Stride la vampa, È lui! è lui! ne' palpiti and O don fatale, as well as Voi lo sapete, o mamma, she was more or less saying that she is a one trick pony. That having been said, that could be a very shrewd career move: she's never going to be out of work in major houses if she can master those roles with that voice - other than Stephanie Blythe there's not many people I can think of who can hack them.
But Shen Yang is so obviously a musician and a singer. Over and again it was mentioned that he is only 23, which is exceptionally young for a bass-baritone, apparently. But I think also proof that "if you're good enough, you're old enough". Expert analyser Mary King (a vocal coach) was obviously entirely smitten, and when Tony Pappano was quizzed about the notes he was making during the performance, his subsequent evasion and blushing were very telling. They both felt he was the winner, it was pretty obvious to me. On the whole, the internet seems in accordance, with comments such as the 'best bass-baritone since Bryn Terfel' (what, he's retired?), although, naturally, there are dissenting opinions, such as 'soporific'.
But, barring burnout and other calamities, I expect to see all six finalists and many of the others on the International Stage for many years to come.
I have started entering competitions recently. So far I have won free Barbican membership and tickets to the Trooping the Colour. The former from the Barbican, the latter from work. Me winning Trooping the Colour tickets was greeted with mirth by those that know me as a class warrior, a socialist. "And a Republican," I reminded them. Jimmy encountered accusations of betrayal of Ireland. My attitude is along the lines of "Know Your Enemy".
The first shock was the early start - be in place by 10 am, toilets close at 10.30 (I suppose it's tantamount to treachery to relieve oneself - or worse - in the Presence). The second shock was a Dress Code. It said: Morning Suit, Lounge Suit or jacket and trousers, so I obeyed the dress code and wore a pinstripe trouser suit.
It was an interesting experience, perhaps the most interesting being observing the British Class System in play. Many people were togged up in posh frocks, WAGs mainly. Even before a mouth was opened, it was so easy to tell Officers' wives and sprogs from those of Other Ranks. We were standing in the "Inner Sentry South" - in front of the stand that was erected in front of the Downing Street Garden, opposite the Old Admiralty Buildings. I won't bore you with the details of what happened when in what order, because it's pretty much the same every year, it's shown on TV, and that would be a tedious blogpost.
I had been worried about standing, fearing that I would have some tall person in front of me, but we were only one deep at the rope, so the view was unobstructed...well, once the massed bands had moved away! We saw the Queen, for Jimmy that was the first time ever, for me the first time in thirty years.
I feel a bit uncomfortable at the thought that I might have been unconsciously, unwittingly and unwillingly be thought to be giving my support to the illegal war in Iraq by going, but I don't think I did. It's an old ceremony, and the army even older. I am not a Pacifist, but I do think we should refrain from entering into Illegal War, in Iraq or anywhere else. But some wars, and, especially "Peacekeeping Missions" are necessary - although wars are usually evidence of the breakdown of diplomacy, not diplomacy by other means (Clausewitz) - example, the Falklands. At the time I was, of course, virulently opposed to it, but on reflection, and after reading "Things Can Only Get Better" by what's his name, that funny chappie from Clapham Common ward, I have to agree that there was an irony in opposing war against an evil right wing dictator (and indeed not many Argentinians did...boom boom). Incidentally, I had a decent view this evening of loads of helicopters doing a flypast of the A23. I was sitting on the top deck of a bus at Crown Point, not a bad vantage point to see ceremonial flies-past.
It was quite an experience being so very close to the soldiers and horses, such that one could almost touch them. I vaguely recalled something about facing them down until you see the whites of their eyes, but that bloke's trombone was way too scary and was coming straight at me. And the horses were kicking up the gravel as they galloped past, I withdrew a bit for that. I was also really impressed by the BBC cameraman who walked parallel to the soldiers marching, but sideways with his knees and back bent ever so awkwardly, just to get the footage.
I would recommend Trooping the Colour once, as an experience, but I wouldn't be in a hurry to return. It comes across as a rather silly little ritual, although considerably less silly live than on the TV. And I suppose all that colour and pomp and ceremony is what keeps the Tourists coming. And the officer classes get indoctrinated throughout their public school carers of the importance of loyalty to Regiment, Queen and Country, which makes them averse to contemplating change, even when on civvie street. So the Ancien Regime stays in place, no boats are rocked, and we remain a semi-democracy with an absence of accountability and where people owe their position not so much to their own endeavours as to accident of birth.
On Thursday, I spent a total of almost five minutes of my life watching a video on YouTube and posting about it to rec.music.opera and to here. Just one of those link-and-move-on posts.
II didn't bank on it spending most of Friday as the number one hit on Google for P4ul P0tt$ the Phone seller from Port Talbot.
And, so, I got more visits to that one post than I normally get to the entire blog in half a week (or indeed a whole week, if you discount the hundreds of people who come here because a photo I stole, and subsequently removed, is number one on Google Images for Marilyn Monroe).
I realised that a fraction of one per cent of those new visitors actually bothered to click elsewhere (if you are one of the five people who did, and has decided to stick around, welcome...!)
(By the way, this is a different stats counter to the one on the front page. Geek, moi?)
Some of the people who left comments were perfectly reasonable. I didn't publish the most offensive comments, nor those that consisted primarily of personal attacks. I received four emails, one supportive, one oppositionalist but polite and reasonable, and two that were personal attacks.
With the comments standing at 52, I decided to have the last word, and close the comments with a characteristically long-winded rebuttal and summation. I have decided to reprint my closing statement below. From now on, I am never going to wish to be one of those blogs that gets lots of comments. It's nice to get comments either from regulars or from people who stumble in by chance, especially when they're thoughtful, even when they state their disagreement. It's not so nice to get them from some really angry people who feel a need to hit out. (I'm also puzzled why I got so much hate from one particular, unnamed, country. With few exceptions, all the hate I have received on the internet has been from that one country, yet all the citizens of that country I have met, either there or here, in Real Life, including off the internet, have been the diametrical opposite of hating, well, apart from the flasher in Central Park, and that fckd up taxi driver in New Orleans, obviously...):
To me, it was always going to be between Jacques Imbrailo (South Africa, baritone) and Miranda Keys (Australia, soprano). I felt if it was - who would I most like to listen to right now, it would be Jacques (curses for thinking that Owen Wingrave tickets would be available close to the performance date). Who would be the big star in,say, ten years time, I would say Miranda Keys.
We were not sure at all about María Isabel Vera (Chile, mezzo). Her Trovatore aria was impressive, but she seemed to lose it a bit in the Dalila. I gather from the telly people that she has a massive voice. That didn't come over on the telly, in fact, having heard them say that I wonder if her sound was turned down, and turned down too much because at times she seemed inaudible over the orchestra - a timely reminder of the unreliability of a TV broadcast...except that, ultimately, we probably all hear more electronically reproduced music than live.
Ivo Yordanov (Bulgaria, baritone) - incidentally, a former Operalia contestant - was okay, but nothing special. It seems unfair to damn with faint praise. Every single one of the 25 competitors are something special, many of them will develop into much better singers, all of them would provide me with an enjoyable evening in the opera house or concert hall. Few of them have that elusive star quality.
Helena Juntunen seemed to have a certain star quality, but her technique let her down. Actually, it was pretty obvious from her body language and general demeanour that she was very dissatisfied with her performance, which is unfortunate, but in a competition, it's how you do on the night - as it is for any performance with a paying audience.
I really liked Jacques,and not just because he's a Jette Parker Young Artist at the ROH. I tried to compare his Ya vas lyublyu with Dima Hvorostovsky and Gerald Finley, and, of course, it didn't compare. But I would be more than happy to hear him sing it in the absence of either of those (and he certainly nailed that long high note at the end better than my Gerald did at Covent Garden last autumn!). I also found his Deh, vieni alla finestra to be flawless, although (seemingly contradictory, but not!) with scope for improvement.
Miranda Keys finished the evening and her Dich, teure Halle in particular was impressive. I was in two minds, because overall I thought she gave a very impressive performance, but I thought that quite a few times she was way off pitch. However, this was in a flamboyant way that can be forgiven in singers who give their all, but I wondered how significant that would be for the judges.
I was surprised that María Isabel Vera won, but will have to accept that she must have come over much better in the hall than on the TV. The Row K Jury agreed with the GertCottage jury in voting for Jacques Imbrailo; Jimmy turned against Miranda Keys because of her appalling choice of dress which really did her no favours. She seems to be a Lisa Gasteen wannabe.
We then awaited the decision for who would actually make the final. I decided it would be Shen Yang, Mari Moriya, Miranda Keys, and two out of Elizabeth Watts, Jacques Imbrailo, and David DQ Lee. (If I had been able to hear all 25 without knowing who had won heats and so on, my own choice might have been quite different...). But I had garnered the opinion of an insider last night who had suggested the judges were on crack and this insider questioned the choice of three of the five finalists.
The finalists are Elizabeth Watts (England, soprano), Levente Molnár (Hungary, baritone), Shen Yang (China, bass baritone), María Isabel Vera and Miranda Keys. I think I can guess which three my insider questioned...
I have decided that I shall vote for Jacques Imbrailo in the audience vote, reluctantly pushing aside Mari Moriya. I am sticking to my Shen Yang to win; but this jury has shown itself to be less than predictable, so who knows. If he performs as well as he did on Tuesday (live)/Wednesday (TV) it would be injustice if he doesn't win.
But for all the also rans,I hope they have enjoyed the experience, and got something out of it, and I also hope that some of these names will become familiars in my local opera houses and concert halls over the coming years.
This is a wonderful CD. In fact, I used to have it on cassette and when that conked out, I had to buy the exact same production on CD. That was because of the other two pieces, the Fantasia for piano, orchestra and chorus, previously blogged (but this version is just so much more passionate crisply delivered) and, also the Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage, which I think liked more then than now! And also because I have a minor DG Yellow fetish.
But the CD exists mainly for the Sixth, the rest is filler.
I have been looking over my early efforts at blogging my entire record collection, and I didn't actually go into great detail beyond "I like". Which is perhaps no bad thing. I really like Beethoven's 6th - Pastoral - Symphony, but not as much as I like 5 and 9. 5 and 9 are the pinnacle of his genius, 6 is merely a manifestation! God, that sounds pretentious. For me it is so much better than most of the symphonies in my collection, and yet, for me, it falls short of his two best.
There is an excerpt that is often included on compilation CDs and, indeed in Fantasia - indisputably the greatest animated film of all time - which makes it very familiar to anybody with even a passing interest in music - and probably the reason why this symphony is no.8 in this year's Classic FM Hall of Fame (if you don't believe me, note that the Pearl Fishers is no. 1 opera...even though, like, nobody has ever seen the Pearl Fishers...). Some compilation CDs even include just that bit and call it "Beethoven's 6th Symphony", giving the impression that the compilers don't have a 'king clue that symphonies generally consist of approximately four complete movements.
My regular readers will know that my interest in opera is driven purely by my love of the music. And the words. And the plot. the sets, the lighting, occasionally the costumes. My hero worship of singers is based primarily on their voice, musicality, dramatic interpretation.
With all that firmly fixed in mind, nevertheless, I am appealing for a photo. I keep reading about Don Giovanni - Erwin Schrott - ending up in hell wearing nothing but a strategically attached laydee.
Only as a public service to my readers - and perhaps this appeal is aimed particularly at the posh people in the orchestra stalls, with a good camera, set with a wide aperture and a slow shutter speed (but not so wide/slow as to cause unintentional shake) - I was just, you know, wondering, merely for the sake of completeness, are there any, you know, photos?
By the way, everything and anything else you need about the luscious Mr Schrott can be found at Erwin Schrott Titbits Page, lovingly maintained by Giorgia
I went into this with very low expectations because of the reports coming from previous performances: horns rubbish - allegedly drunk, Pappano a charlatan, Mattila over-parted, action all taking place on the side of the stage. Plus I had a physically painful walk all the way from work, which was not part of my agenda, and I was already not in 100% physical condition. Oh, and I was in a cheap seat in the Lower Slips, which has many advantages, but leaning over the hand rail in discomfort isn't one of them.
The overture, so familiar began. It was a mess. The horns were a mess. The strings sounded just wrong. I think it was a tone thing. I wanted them to be period strings - is the sign of a period instrument fascist wanting Beethoven on old strings? But it's almost impossible to ruin Beethoven (well, I have a CD of this very opera, and despite some transcendent singing from some gorgeous singers, it is so much much less than the sum of its parts as to be as close to a dogs' dinner as possible. So I kind of knew that however bad the lovely Tony was, he could never reach the nadir that is Daniel Barenboim).
Two and three quarter hours later I came out of a pretty special experience that I think will be memorable. And why that is, I can't really explain.
To be honest, the orchestra never really fully got it together. They weren't too bad when accompanying the singers but in the purely instrumental bits they seemed out of time and sometimes a bit vague about pitch. Especially the brass, especially especially the horns.
The production was, for the most part, adequate if ultimately rather workaday. I found myself being far too critical of the sets, which were illogical and counter to my view. It was a production imported from the USA and I can't quite understand why. The prison cells were open cages, which presented dramaturgical problems because they faced into the courtyard and were fitted with electric lightbulbs (important for sleep deprivation, not so effective when it comes to the glorious hymn praising the sunlight). Also illogical because they were of a three-storey construction with no means to access or exit the upper two storeys. Then, when Rocco and "Fidelio" were going off to Florestan's cell, I did wonder why Rocco was carrying a light-sabre which even I know is straight out of Star Wars. Finally, the staging of the finale struck a mischord. All it lacked was ticker tape and a military band playing "When Jonny comes a marching home". Many of the crowd were disco dancing and I swore I saw some break into the Texas two step. And I was confused as to why there seemed to be an empty swimming pool outside the prison.
The personenregie was reasonably good and I think was helped by having a critical mass of impressive stage people. It took me a while to recognise Karita Mattila, who looked very fetching as a man, and was very convincing as Leonore-disguised-as-Fidelio. I didn't recognise Eric Halfvarson for all of the first half (and I've met him!). He gave a credible impersonation of a small minded lackey. Terje Stensvold was a towering tyrant, blessed with a passing resemblance to someone I used to know professionally who was/is also a tyrant. Endrik Wottrich was convincing in his suffering as Florestan although he didn't quite reach out far enough beyond the footlights to grab me. And Karita really inhabited the role.
The singing was at least as good as that one gets from the currently superior house down the road ;-). I don't think any of them excelled. When Karita was good she was very good, but I understand - although ultimately disagree with - the analysis of overparted: there was a lot of strain and an inconsistency in volume. Halfvarson gave a good solid if generic vocal performance, and Stensvold matched his dominating stage presence with a booming and almost attractive voice. Endrik Wottrich is a new name entirely to me and I really don't know what to make of his voice. I now understand the term counter heldentenor - it was as if he was singing the entire role in head voice but without the squawk of the seagullist. I veered between loving and hating his voice; regardless, it has a compelling ring to it.
So far I haven't mentioned Marzelline and Jaquino (Ailish Tynan and Robert Murray). They were fine in their relatively small roles, but, if the truth be told this opera-comique is a distraction from the main thrust of the main opera, and had the woman next to me confused into thinking the whole thing was a comedy (you pitifully sad creature). Hon mensh. must go to Haoyin Xue and Krzysztof Szumanski, both of them Jette Parker Young Artists, as First and Second Prisoners. Haoyin Xue seems to have a sweet gorgeous voice, so a slight crack was a shame.
I first became familiar with Fidelio at the same time that I was learning about tyrannical dictatorships in Latin America, particularly in Pinochet's Chile, so in my mind, regardless of accuracy (historical and dramaturgical), it is set in Pinochet's Chile. (It sets my teeth on edge when people start using the word 'relevant' about opera, but in this particular case it is synergetic with current events).
It is impossible not to consider Leonore (Fidelio) as a real feminist hero. Unless one rejects the notion of sacrificing so much for one's husband as being too close to 'Surrendered Wife'. I don't. Not long after the time when Mozart's women were getting their fiancées confused with cunningly disguised Albanian soldiers, and Rossini's girls were fluttering their eyelashes at Counts on White Chargers, Beethoven's sister was doing it for herself, getting her hands dirty, yes for the husband she truly loved but also for Freiheit. Nothing encapsulates the Enlightenment ideal better than the Prisoners Chorus which when performed well is Beethoven at his peak. The male chorus is one of the greatest strengths of the Royal Opera House, and they excelled themselves. One seemed to pick me out as the random anonymous audience member on which to focus and I was moved by the look of desperation, a desperation echoed by the entire chorus accompanied by sublime music. It really is one of those amazing goose-pimple moments.
I am going again on Thursday, this time to the Lower Slips Right, and in my alphabetical-survey-of-operas-on-record, Fidelio will follow after Fanciulla, Faust and Fedora, so perhaps I will explore the 'Freiheit', the Enlightenment, and the gorgeousness of Beethoven in greater depth at greater length then.
I have found the weirdest thing on You Tube. An amateur singer with a wispy whiny voice, no heft and lots of wobbles sung Nessun Dorma on some ITV talent show the other day
The video has been watched like 1.3 million times (more than one upload) and has attracted 5,000 comments, over 90% of them being hysterically over the top, saying he is the greatest singer ever. Well, I suppose if you have never heard anything but cRap in your life, anyone who can more-or-less hold a tune is so out of your experience, that, without any valid comparators at all, you are likely to wet your pants. Good Luck to the guy. He's rubbish, but there you go.
Looks like being 'Game On' in Cardiff. After Heat 3's sensational Chinese bass-baritone tonight we had the thrill of Ms Japan, a superb soprano: Mari Moriya from Japan. Apparently she's already sung at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, so I'm not sure what hse's doing in a competition. But what the heck, she's perfectly entitled
The first three competitors all definitely had their strengths and all were a pleasure to hear - Ida Falk Winland (Sweden, soprano), Owen Gilhooly (Ireland, baritone) and Anna Viktorova (Russia, mezzo). Of the three Anna showed the most potential. Mary King articulated what I was vaguely feeling - 25 years old, and a mezzo, she will mature and improve, and will be exceedingly good in ten years time.
Of the remaining two. Well, I'm afraid I learnt the result last night by clicking on Opera Daddy's Blog. Even so, listening to him was a bit like watching a friend, in a way, and I was delighted at what I heard. Of course, it's only manners to be sucky to people on their own blog, I can be more honest on here. He is a very attractive man, although a bit young for me. He also came over as very likeable on stage - which actually, perhaps was not so cool when all his roles were baddies. An interesting repertoire ie I only knew one of the three pieces. I enjoyed his performance, it was definitely one of my very favourites so far this week (I've watched, but not blogged Tuesday's), and I would like to see him in the final.
But I already knew, and it was obvious from the first minute or so of her performance that Ms Japan was going to win. A lovely performance of the Bellini. The Caro nome was delightful, although probably the weakest of her three pieces, and the Der Hölle Rache was a real stormer. I'm still backing Mr China, but I think it will be very interesting on Sunday.
Kacey's weight began escalating when she was barely six months old...A whole team of doctors carried out a range of tests which failed to find any underlying medical cause for her condition...The turning point came when Kacey was two. Her parents decided they had to control what she was eating much more closely. Nadine drew up a list of healthy foods and told Kacey she chose off her special list of "princess" foods. A typical lunch might now be a bowl of soup with a slice of bread, and a piece of fruit...By taking control of Kacey's food her parents have transformed their daughter's future.
There's two aspects of this I don't understand. What was she eating beforehand? The fact that she had a battery of medical tests suggests that doctors were reasonably satisfied that diet wasn't a significant cause. The fact that they couldn't find a medical explanation doesn't mean there isn't a medical cause - undefinable and freak? The other thing that confuses me is that as the child approached two years old, the parents decided to take control of what she was eating. This seems to imply that prior to that, the child - a baby - was in control. Of course I know how difficult it can be to get children to eat certain foods, in the right amount, and a parent has to decide how far to push it. But, if it turns out that a diet that has soup bread and fruit for lunch has really helped the child's obesity, what was she eating before that was so radically different? So, either the previous diet was so crap that any reasonable diet was a vast improvement - so why did she have medical tests? Or else there is a - undiagnosed - medical problem, so - what is the general relevance of this and what is the conclusion to be drawn from the change in diet?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, but it seems to me that someone is being paid good money to write absolute rubbish. A hundred monkeys with a hundred typewriters...
Admittedly, I haven't seen the heat broadcast on Tuesday, and there are two more yet to be broadcast, but if any of those singers can match the extraordinary talent of this competitor I will willingly eat my hat.
Thirty seconds into his Vivaldi aria - which I don't know, but all Vivaldi sounds the same to me , I was "Wow". After a moving Hans Sach and a convincing Mephistopheles I was even more convinced that this is the Cardiff Singer of the World 2007. Beautiful voice, great expression, superb diction (as far as I can tell, which, admittedly is limited), and a natural confidence, polish, finish, maturity and professionalism. If the standard gets any higher than this, it is truly a Golden Age. Of course many of the soundbiters went for Sarah Jane Davies 'because she's Welsh' but the Row K jury, the panel of experts, and the real jury went for Shen Yang.
As for the others, I did not like Wiard Witholt very much but would be interested to hear him in the Song Prize, suspecting that he could do extremely well. Sarah Jane Davies' singing of one of the Four Last Songs was exquisite, but her Handel (from Serse) did nothing for me, and the Cosi aria was lacking. It's a shame, because I've heard her live, and she sounded much better. Nor did she score very highly from the TrinnyandSusannah (Jimmy) of Gert Cottage, who opined that her dress didn't suit her, and was of the same unflattering design as Liz Watts'. Juhan Tralla gave a good solid unexceptional performance. I feel he would be super-reliable as a house tenor but has no star quality and I felt that he was singing in the masque far too much. Evelina Dobraceva raced into the lead in the Gert Cottage Frockwatch, and got special marks for being an Angela Gheorghiu wannabe. She has a lovely voice, a gorgeous free top, and was head and shoulders above the other three. But singing straight after Shen Yang merely served to highlight her limitations, and without being cruel, if she hasn't developed a je ne sais quoi by 32 she ain't never going to. Whereas 23-year old Shen demonstrated that je ne sais quoi and star quality are something one is born with. A soundbiter said "I feel tonight we have been in the presence of greatness" and it's hard to disagree. I found that elusive wow factor.
I walked down to Millbank and realised that traffic was bad, really bad. I thought, maybe I could wait for a bus but if I walk to Whitehall I have a better choice.
Parliament Square was even more heaving with traffic and really stunk of petrol fumes. I feel terribly sorry for the people who have to work in that area. They have to endure such ghastliness and there's just nothing they can do about it. It's so pedestrian unfriendly at the best of times; tonight wasn't the best of times. I then realised Whitehall is being dug up, so had to walk to the Cenotaph for a bus stop. But there was an absence of buses going where I wanted.
Reluctantly I walked up to Trafalgar Square, every step making me hurt more and more, wondering if I would ever make it. Then at Trafalgar Square, it's like, I'm nearly there now. But I wasn't,not really. So by the time I arrived at Covent Garden, I was really set for a ghastly night. I looked in the mirror and I looked terribly hot and flustered. And felt like shit. So, if the truth be told, the idea of enduring a reportedly not very good performance of a patchy opera, whilst sitting on the somewhat uncomfortable seats of the Lower Slips, leaning over to view the action which reportedly took place all at the side. I thought,no, stick the first half, then go if it's really bad.
The next thing I knew it was the interval - Beethoven does that - and I was eagerly awaiting the second half. I shall write a more considered review when I get the time, but although it was patchy and, in places, rough around the edges, I really really enjoyed Fidelio. The Prisoners Chorus is something else, really amazing, gave me goosepimples and the most gorgeous visceral thrill.
Covent Garden Station was closed, but I managed to sail down to Leicester Square painlessly. I'm beginning to find my way around that area of London; indeed, the other week I even announced, outside Leicester Square station "I think I know where I am now..."
There are some public loos at Clapham Common but they close at night. A bloke went up to the Gents and seeing that they were closed, decided to use the space anyway, in front of about forty people at the bus stop. Finished, he turned round, half crossed the road, put himself back in again, zipped himself up and returne dto a hug from his girlfriend, standing by the phone box.
Two stops before mine, about eight people got off, to be met by two burly chaps holding up ID "We're from Scotland Yard and we'd like to ask you about an incident this time last week." I asked myself where was I this time last week. Then I remembered, lying in bed being kept awake by helicopters and sirens, in the aftermath of the murder of two Colombian brothers - a drugs thing apparently.
And, after all that, I'm still bubbling,which is proof of how brilliantBeethoven is
That's the bit where everyone stands around watching on BBC News 24, something that is happening in the next street Top of London building collapses.
Traffic is being diverted and the blogger in me thinks - is there scope for blogging this. To which I rapidly answer, no. I did watch a red Virgin logoed helichopper descend into the street - air ambulance? - but helichoppers are hardly rare round these parts. One colleague says "Does it affect my train? If it doesn't affect my train I don't want to know, it's all me me me."
The need to be contributing UGC (User Generated Content) probably hampers any search and rescue operation; far better photos will be taken by professional photographers with proper kit and Press credentials than by some passing commuter with a mobile phone. I hope there are no serious casualties.
I'm afraid I didn't even hear an explosion. I was on the phone to a friend at the time.
I shall be avoiding the site by catching a bus, exactly as planned, along the river. Not literally along the river, of course, they don't accept Oysters on Ducks.
I went to this ages ago - the end of May - and I don't understand why I haven't blogged it,because I really enjoyed it. In fact,it's pretty safe to say that everything I have seen at ENO in 2007 has been really really worthwhile, which is a helluva lot better than can be said for ROH, out of which I have walked twice this year. Oh well, win some lose some.
Perhaps the reason I didn't blog Death in Venice is because of my woeful ignorance. Of course I know the story, who doesn't? Not that I have read Thomas Mann, but I seen the film - the Visconti film, starring the incomparable Dirk Bogarde. Sadly, transmitted by the BBC at the wrong screen size, leading to a dreadful distortion of the haunting Mahler.
But about Benjamin Britten's opera I knew zilch. And I'm not going to even pretend to make an intelligent comment about it. I loved it. I thought there were committed performers in an absorbing opera with a brilliant production. There are lots of reviews all over the interwebthing, from people who know what they're talking about. So what I can I say - and, like eleven days later, how precise can I get?
Ian Bostridge was...interesting. I want to like him, and I do like him, but I can never feel passionately about him. His performance was musical and tortured, very convincing acting. A lot of people say he is, and appears, too young to play Aschenbach, and he certainly comes over much younger than Bogarde's portrayal. But I was happy to overlook that.
I suppose the style isn't everyone taste - it's not actually that popular even with people who are fond of Britten. It's not exactly a stop and sing pretty arias for the show-off-of-voice, which deters people. But you know, I liked it! Peter Coleman Wright was also excellent in the various baritone roles, and, surprisingly, I really liked the seagull counter-tenor Iestyn Davies who sang the Voice of Apollo, a role specifically written for counter-tenor. I wrote somewhere else - and now I forget where - that it was interesting that he soared above the light orchestra, which c-ts don't do in parts written for castrati /soapbox.
If I had to single out one reason why I like Britten it's the percussion. Despite the commendable singing performances and the stunning set, time and again it was the percussion that thrilled me. I keep saying I need to get more into Britten, but time and stuff conspire against me. However, I know that I have the rest of my life; like Handel, his operas are going to be performed more and more. So I shall learn by osmosis rather than study.
Some blogger somewhere - can't remember where, do please claim credit if it were you - singled out the lighting, and I can't argue. So atmospheric, of the Lido/beach, the hotel, and so on. I thought the sets were gorgeous, and I like the way the floor alternatively represented the canals of Venice and the highly polished floor of the hotel. I liked that the sets represented a concept of Venice rather than spelling.it.out.in.big.letters.with.perfect.reproductions.of.St.Marks.and.various. palazzos. And most of all I liked the movements, the way the characters interacted, and the choreography of the boys, who were beautiful to watch.
There's plenty to provoke the thoughts, in Britten's novel and in Visconti's film, and it's potentially a delicate and controversial subject. To put it crudely, Aschenbach is lusting after an adolescent, which makes it sound all murky. More correctly, he is looking at this beautiful child-man and appreciating the beauty, is falling in love, and yet, all the time, the beauty and vivacity, and innocence, of the child is a stark reminder of his own 'old age' (in his fifties...), ugliness, and impotence (as a writer, and, I suppose, sexually). Obviously not one for the Daily Mail/Classic FM Brigade, and it makes me feel uncomfortable - am I naive in thinking it's just some old man's fantasies, or is there something more sinister going on. I want to believe that the main theme is the contrast between youthful beauty and ageing deterioration, and not that it's a pederast's charter (although, let's be honest, no one would raise an eyebrow if the object of his desire was a girl of the same age - fair game in the public subconscious...)
It still has one more performance left, on Wednesday, and I hope that they revive it in the near future.
And, finally a big hello to Mandy. I had hoped to catch up with you in the interval, but I had to bolt to the street for my nicotine fix, then the lift on the way back took for ever up and down up and down. but it was nice to see you, and I hope you enjoyed it, too!
Oh, and the stick waver was Edward Gardner who has cunningly had some grey dye inserted into his hair to make him appear older than Tadzio.
Was shown on TV tonight. The official version is here.
We had a split vote in Gert Cottage, with Jimmy agreeing with the Official Jury and Pretty Blonde Spenceboy in nominating Elizabeth Watts - she is writing Liz's Cardiff Blog.
My favourite was Luciano Botelho, a Brazillian tenore di grazia. I thought he had the most beautiful voice, especially at the top, and he reminded me a lot of Juan Diego Florez,especially in the piece from Rossini. I liked all of them, up to a point. I have already written the following on a newsgroup:
I thought Sae Kyung Rim was too screachy on top and had a bit of a wobble, but otherwise had an attractive sound, but zero personality. I loved Luciano's gorgeous sweet tone, especially right at the top. He reminds me to some extent of Juan Diego Florez, especially in the Rossini. I felt he struggled when moving chest to head. Ante Jerkunica did the least for me. I noticed an absence of top (indeed I seemed to anticipating most of Pretty Blonde Spenceboy's remarks), and he seemed to lack charisma, which Levente Molnár had in spades. Toby Spence described his act as "Rants and Variations" and I would certainly have liked to hear how he coped with something more lyrical. I felt he was a bit rough around the edges but woth bags of potential. I think probably Elizabeth Watts was the best technically, although her Massanet did very little for me. Certainly the Szymanowski was a startling change in the rep.
A few weeks ago I gave you a few links to my photoblog. I've published quite a few photos since then, indeed the front page has completely changed. The first photo I published after I previously linked is here
In a protracted 'moment' of madness lasting 48 hours I decided to take photographs of stuff I was cooking in a weekend. Photographically, the results are mixed, culinarily they were successful. The first is here and they go forward chronologically to here.
There's quite a lot of different pictures that have been lurking on my hard drive for some years, hopefully something for everyone. Perhaps my favourite is:
This is one of those boring blog posts that have to be written from time to time. It's not an appeal for sympathy just a statement of facts and a sort of explanation about my life.
Sometimes I am so full of energy. It's a real thrill, and very exciting. Sometimes, for a few hours I can believe that I am normal. I suppose I have always suffered from a surfeit of adrenaline and nervous energy, so even now, I can draw on it to get me through things.
Having CFS is - in some ways a little bit like depression. Mostly in the can't be bothered to do anything' way. A lot of times I plan things and then simply don't have the energy to follow through the commitment. Other times, I start off with energy but end up aching so much that it's really difficult to do things. Sometimes the aches and pains are just the muscular and joint aches that are part-and-parcel of fybromalgia, sometimes they're incidental and indicative of my very low pain threshold. Anything that has pain attached is unbearable. You know, really boring stuff like period pain, which I spent quarter a century shrugging off with a paracetamol and now takes an entire pharmacopoeia. Or silly trivial stuff like being laid low by a mild case of trapped wind.
Or the 'doing stuff' and being laid completely low as a result. Last weekend we did an open top tour of London. To be honest I wouldn't recommend it. It acts as a way to transport one between bus stops close to tourist attractions, rather than a way actually to see them - Whitehall/Westminster Bridge and Tower of London/Tower Bridge excepted. We also did a walk round Westminster Abbey which was kind of interesting. And then we went to China Town (we bumped into Simon; he asked what we were doing in those parts, he laughed when I said "Looking for a Chinese restaurant", I think with a tone on my voice which suggested I wasn't entirely optimistic I would find one!). After dinner home to a feeling of being completely over-tired, whingeing, I don't know what to do, I don't know if I want to play on the internet or have a bath.
I fancied going to the South Bank this weekend to witness the re-opening of the Festival Hall post refurbishment. Jimmy mentioned the seaside, I reckoned I couldn't do both, so I said Seaside Sunday, but Saturday night he said, we were out last weekend, we're out next weekend (guess who scored tickets for Trooping the Colour). I want to fight and say 'let's go out all the time', but he's right. So we spent the weekend combining a modicum of domesticity with general lazing around. I had quite a lot to drink yesterday, five or six glasses of wine, with food, over a considerable number of hours, and it completely knocked me out. Lying on the sofa trying to veg in front of the telly, falling asleep during the most interesting bits of 'Coast' (as I had done during the first episode of Andrew Marr's History of PostWar Britain, which is a really really good series for so very many reasons). And my stated intent for today is to do nothing - and do it in style. Well, not really, but there's never any harm in quoting an Ezio song!
Last year the blackbirds nested in our creepers. This year, they seem to be nesting next door. How much of a snub is that? The previous year we had a pair of wood-pigeons, in a drunken moment I named them Sieglinde and Siegmund. At least next door's blackbirds are using our garden for feeding. They are currently into dates we never got round to at Christmas.
Papa Blackbird is currently foraging; he appeared as soon as we left the table. So I am now under strict orders to stay inside whilst Papa Blackbird does his foraging, because if I went out I'd scare him.
It was so cool last year, they woke me up at about five o'clock in the morning and I watched Papa and Mama perched on chimney pots , one keeping watch on the nest whilst the other went searching for food. Something happened, another bird, one perhaps they see as predator, arrived and their tune changed, and near-panic arose. Mama flew back to the nest, Papa went on the hunt.
They're now singing, relieved that that weird human couple are no longer in their hunting ground.
But it's been a long time since I've seen Siegmund and Sieglinde.
Verdi as you've never heard him before. His last opera, premiered in 1893 when he was almost 80 years old, six years after Otello, which itself came 16 years after Aida.
After Shakespeare. I know Falstaff from Henry IV Part I which was an O-Level set text, but I don't know Merry Wives of Windsor. Wikipedia
This is on Sky Arts quite often, a cast made up mainly of singers just below star status. And Juan Diego Florez, who wasn't as stellar then as he is now. Coincidentally, it was the first thing recorded onto my Sky+ Box and by alphabetical chance it happens to be the first video I have transferred to DVD.
The production is boringly traditional, costumes an approximation to Elizabethan clothes, the sets seemingly painted flats, much of the singing delivered by people standing static at the front of the stage facing forward, might as well be a concert performance. Or the Village G&S Society's annual Mikado. (I wrote that before I realised it was a recreation of a 1913 production; I just have to ask why!).
Story quite simple - John Falstaff has written almost identical letters to various married women in the village. They compare notes and conspire...Meanwhile, Fenton and Nannetta are courting illicitly. Their music is more lyrical and in a much brighter key than that of the older folk, whose music is more conversational, on the whole. The conspiracy consists of them arranging an assignation, getting various men of the village in on the conspiracy, putting Falstaff in a linen chest and throwing him in the Thames, and then meeting up later in the woods to really teach him a lesson.
This isn't a 'pretty tunes' opera where you can go away whistling the tunes. Some people emphasise the modernism, but it isn't 'modern' in a twelve-tone anti-melodic way.
I have seen it a few times and it has yet to make the same overwhelming impression as most of his middle and late operas do. I do recognise that it is regarded as less accessible, a deliberate change in style. One thing I will say for it is that it is infinitely better than Vaughan Williams' version, Sir John in Love, which I had the misfortune to endure at ENO last year. But that us damning with faint praise.
I have tried so hard to like it, I have watched it three times in just the past couple of weeks. I have tried so hard to concentrate but keep finding that my attention is drawn by other distractions. I know I should try harder, I know that rewards grow proportionate to the efforts made. But I just can't make myself go that extra distance. I know full well that Falstaff is different from all of Verdi's other operas. Liking Falstaff is the sign of a thinking person, dilettantes don't get it. So I'm a Philistine shrug. Maybe I'll get it one day, but I'm not going to beat myself up in the process. Perhaps if I were to see it live, with a top cast or a great production, I would like it more. And I certainly wouldn't avoid it, as such, although it would be at most Priority 2 in weighing up cost, time, energy etc.
I kind of understand that part of the attraction is the characters. The trouble is, I feel no empathy for them. I think we are supposed to really like Falstaff as an embodiment of so much of the human spirit, the self-delusion, the gluttony, the unprincipled behaviour. But I'm afraid I just don't get that either. Sure, there are loads of people out there like him, but so what shrugs
I'm sorry, I set off to blog about every opera I own in alphabetical order, attempting to study them with some care, and to try and convey my unique personal insight...not that I'm claiming any special insight, just that this is my blog, and it's just a place where I write, like a private diary that I happen to allow other people to read, and in writing reviews of things, my primary customer is me (I also hope that readers enjoy what I write, but I'm not writing with the intention of drawing attention). I have approximately 250 versions of 125 operas, and growing, so life is too short to get too worked up about one I don't get anything out of.
A few weeks ago Thames Water sent me a letter saying that they were going to start digging up all round and about in order to replace the ageing water mains. I had read about this and in principle it seems like a jolly good idea.
They wrote notifying of a public exhibition that would be taking place locally - on the Thursday afternoon from 4pm to 7pm. I received the letter on the Tuesday and expressed my view that it was a joke: two days notice of a weekday afternoon event is box ticking, not proper consultation. They did try to argue that it was evening, not afternoon, but I argued that it presupposed everyone finishes work at 5.30 or earlier, which just isn't the case. It also presupposes an absence of prior engagement, which isn't realistic.
Their contractor rung me back and we had a pleasant and constructive conversation. From that, I got assurances that they would not work outside the hours laid down in statute (and, as far as I know, they haven't). He said they wouldn't be touching Gert Cottage Boulevard, but they were, in fact, due to start on the parallel road the next week. the work would take a few days. I felt smug, I was due in Manchester and would therefore miss it.
Five weeks later they are still there, in Parallel-to-Gert-Cottage-Boulevard Road, which is closed except for access, and is largely dug up. Most of the residents are forced into parking their cars elsewhere. I would feel smug, but...oh hell, I do feel smug. Meanwhile, Next-But-One-Road to GCB is also now dug up, putting even more pressure on vehicular traffic and parking. Like I care.
However, the holes, especially in Parallel Road are covered in planks. Not semi-rotten wooden planks, but state-of-the-art metal planks. Every couple of days either Jimmy or I remarks "Sounds like thunder" then giggles self-consciously, remembering that it's the sound of cars driving over the metal planks. This is particularly noticeable in the late evening, night-time and early morning, generally the time that people, whether they are larks or owls, are sleeping. And there is increasing need to leave windows open, so I do feel sorry for people living on Parallel Road, who have endure that noise at much closer quarters...apparently it's acceptable behaviour to create that racket at half one in the morning? Beats me, too!
The Grapevine informs that the delays have been caused by one of the suppliers going bust. Now I have sympathy with the project manager. Can't be paying workers to sit idle, but can't lay off skilled and experienced workers. Result, lots of dug-up roads, presumably waiting for parts, and, presumably, when the parts arrive there will be a massive backlog of roads that need parts fitting and then filling in.
It did make me wonder though, what sort of firm lands a contract to supply Thames Water in this Major Project and then goes bust? I then scolded myself, and asked, have you learned nothing? Classic case of overstretch, probably lack of cash flow. I've seen it so many times. I once audited a file where the Govt. Dept. concerned was paying a massive grant to a Local Authority for some Civil Engineering works. The surveyors report on progress was very negative, and mentioned that the contractors had under-estimated by a massive amount and heads had rolled. But there again, should Thames Water have contracted a supplier with a disproportionate amount of business. I wonder what the impact is on TW, deadlines, cost etc. Not to mention the protracted loss of amenity to road-users. Not that it bothers me, they haven't - yet - dug up any bus routes I use. And I would have thought that over the years Just sinc eI have been here, there have been so many emergency repairs to Brixton Hill it's probably go the most up-to-date water mains in London
Details of TV and Radio broadcasts. I shall attempt to do a bit 'live-blogging' - dreadful word, worse concept. Except Tuesday, for I shall be at Covent Garden for Fidelio (which is, by all accounts, dreadful; if so I shall sell my ticket for the performance I also have booked in two weeks time). Oh, and maybe not Wednesday, because we have vague plans to Big ScreenDon Giovanni (weather permitting) (Erwin Schrott, Anna Netrebko - it's about time ROH presented me with something memorable)
Mr USA Ryan McKinney who blogs as Opera Daddy has been on my bloglines for months, and his omisison from my blogroll is a bizarre oversight.
Update: (On DG, not Cardiff). Trebs has dropped out of the first night of Don Giovanni. Fortunately, the replacement is Marina Poplavskaya, who is more than up to the job - we were delighted when she was announced as the replacement for Angela Gheorghiu in Don Carlo and were well disappointed that she never got to appear in Cyrano de Bergerac for which she was covering (and we saw five times, so would have liked a better soprano than the one we had to endure five times). Let's be honest, Donna Anna isn't that much of a role, anyway. The stars are DG and Leporello, and Donna Anna is arguably the Third Lady
Opened on Sunday and runs until a week on Saturday. The same production as was at the Teatro Real in Madrid last season and is available on a rather gorgeous DVD - my five sentence review
It's Domingo's show. The gracefully aging tenor, 66, here takes on the baritone role of Vidal Hernando (the revolutionary), which sits just-so in his voice these days. There are a few high Gs, easily compassed. Domingo proves suave and eminently poised, his voice even and present from top to bottom.
Chris on Opera-L left at the interval (no-one tell him it's much better after the interval) and Siggy, also on Opera-L, but also of this parish enjoyed it,although I would suggest a Rioja or a Ribera del Duero would have been a better choice of wine!
I like to describe myself as a portfolio person, renaissance woman, multi-tasking and multi-faceted. There are those that say I lack focus,am unable to concentrate, and have phases and fads I shall grow out of.
Today I happened to catch the Tube with an old old friend. I have known him since the Angel by-election, when he was a member of The Creche as Ted Knight* so memorably described it. We lost the Angel by-election, possibly because of that headline on the Nine O'Clock News because of corruption in Lambeth Housing. Fifteen years ago. At one stage, this friend and I used to spend a lot of time together - he was a councillor between 98 and 02. In o2 a great number of people stood down or were defeated in the polls, and some physically moved away. This friend lives on the same road as me and works near where I work. But we rarely see each other, just the occasional encounter in passing. Naturally, we launched into a heated discussion about the Deputy Leadership. It has occurred to me that maybe I ought to apply some thought and not waste my vote.
A woman got on at Stockwell and came to stand near us. My friend A saw her book,and announced - to me, to her, to the Tube carriage - "If you want a real raunchy read, Philippa Gregory's the one to read - The Other Boleyn Girl - lots of oral sex. I teach history and my Year 9s love it!" For a moment I feared this woman would think A was some weirdo pervert, which he absolutely isn't, but she laughed and said "And I suppose they then go and practice what they read." A few minutes later, after I had left them, I thought, if this woman has a blog, how would she write it - there were these two people on the Tube and one moment they're discussing Blair's legacy and Jack Straw being sacked for maintaining dialogue with Iran and Syria, and the next the man is talking to me about oral sex, and the woman suddenly disappeared at Vauxhall."
* aka Red Ted, ultra vires Leader of Lambeth Council in the 80s**
** it's really about time that I wrote some of my Lambeth memories before they disappear and I slip into my anecdotage.
(Judge Hezlett Colgan said) while he would have to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life, the "radical change" in King's life since the offences - marriage and parenthood - meant he did not feel it necessary to ban him from working with children in the future.
which strikes me as perverse. I can see an argument for not banning someone who committed offences only as a youngster themselves, or (logically, not morally) if the offences were only committed away from any sort of work environment.
There have been quite a few comments on the various opera newsgroups. I know the story has been around since last summer, but to be honest, I didn't think it would lead to a conviction - partly because sexual assault cases tend to have a very low conviction rate anyway, and this is a case going back several years, (although generally assaults on boys are seen as exponentially worse than assaults on girls), and because it is not unusual for false accusations to be made against prominent people.
So it feels rather unpleasant to me. I have a number of Kings Consort CDs and have attended a number of their concerts; I am lavish with praise. But I don't know whether I could ever listen to those CDs again with quite the same. The TKC website says nothing - as yet - but does carry a long list of CDs that seem very desirable. Or do they? I don't know.
I really do wish justice had not been done...for me...his golden recordings have put him beyond reproach.
He was also about the only person in Classical Music who, when he opened his mouth, could actually be funny. He was the supreme raconteur and always had the audiences in the palm of his hand.
Mind you, that's what these types actually believe - being a Good Chap who plays the Game makes one above the masses for whom hanging and birching is too good, what oh. Gosh, perhaps there were, you know, common people on the jury. Wouldn't have been allowed in my day.
My previous entry in this category will show the casual reader that I am a devoted fan of Adam Ant.
However, I have to say this album is a misnomer. I have very little good to say about it; I removed it from my mp3 player pretty quickly, and realised that I had barely played it since buying it in 1995. If I'm feeling charitable, I would say that artists bring out dreadful 'Comeback' albums because they are so caught up and too close to the material, and no one has the common sense or guts to say "Woah! This is really bad, it's so bad it risks jeopardising your reputation and integrity that you strived so hard to establish." If I was less charitable, I would say it was a deliberate ploy by the record company, with or without the artist's connivance to take advantage of the gullibility loyalty of long term fans. It leaves a bad sound in the ear and a bad taste in the mouth.
I went through a period of two or three years when I didn't play music. Well, that's not strictly true, I just got into a rut playing a small number of compilation albums, ignoring all else. I then decided to be a bit more systematic and all-embracing, and I put this CD on with trepidation. I was aware by then of the familiarity/nostalgia school of musical appreciation. Just because I knew the songs inside out and they brought back memories of a time of my life, didn't actually make them any good.
I realised then, and I realise again today that the biggest criticisms of this album are
the packaging is low rent - an eight page booklet with a bit of hagiography, a track listing and pictures of the singles - hey, I've got the majority of the singles, on 7" vinyl, with their exciting full colour full picture cases
it isn't on vinyl. I'm not a big fan of vinyl. What with broken needles, jumping needles, pieces of fluff that ruin an entire section, well, I'm definitely a CD girl. But Adam and the Ants demand to be played on vinyl, I think, to reflect the raw passion inherent in the music
Adam and the Ants exemplify more than any other pop band how percussion can be musical in itself. I got into Adam and the Ants in that difficult teen stage of my life. 16 October 1980, to be precise. Yes, I still know the date on which they first appeared on Top of the Pops. Without having to look it up. They were my band of my teenage years. And thus, it is difficult to be objective.
But I still think that lyrically, melodically and drumly, they are a cut above everything else in the poposhere*. This is me listening objectively. This is me already wanting to play the whole album again even before it has finished.
As any Antperson knows, there came a point where Adam (reverse D, please) and the Ants became Adam Ant. At the time it seemed important, but in retrospect it is less important than the hiatus. Basically those ℗ 1978 - 1983 are sheer genius. Those from 1985-1989 are, to be honest, forgettable.
So the good ones. Prince Charming. The acoustic guitar, the grinding sound, the fact the song deliberately seems to take ages to get started, then we have that wonderful chorus "Ridicule is nothing to be scared of..." and the howling, followed by a change of key, before reverting for the chorus And no, I can't do the Prince Charming dance, but then I couldn't back then, either. And I'm still word perfect in singalong.
Kings of the Wild Frontier: Perfect example of how powerful the double drumkit is. I was watching the Marie Antoinette film the other day and this proved to be a surprisingly perfect soundtrack for a pre-Revolutionary masqued ball. Who'd have known! (Actually, any real Ants fan will know that the classic jacket was researched by Adam on a visit to Les Invalides...so everything connects...)
Apollo 9 is very good for post-hiatus Adam. Loud and raucous, but, ultimately, not as satisfying as the earlier stuff. And really quite nonsense, I think.
Dog Eat Dog is for me the weakest of the singles from 'Kings' album. That doesn't make it a bad song, far from it.
On YouTube someone has commented
Thank God i was a teenager when these boys were around it was a magical time in music history and wouldn't change that for anything in the world
. A sentiment I share wholeheartedly. Although, I wonder how different it would have been to have been me then, and them then, but with t'internet, downloads, YouTube, MTV, PVRs etc. Would I have been even more obsessed?
Puss 'N Boots. What I like most about this is the staccato rhythm. And the way it pauses and then changes key. Marco Pirroni had more music in his little finger than most of today's manufactured crap have in their entire group and entourage combined...
Goody Two Shoes reminds me so much of the long hot summer of 1982, lying awake trying to get to sleep listening to the radio.Furious drumbeat, but a great melodic line, and funky brass. For a few weeks I even followed the advice "Don't drink, don't smoke". It didn't last, obviously, after all I was fourteen. A very shrewd critique of the celebrity culture, and an attack on the media. I didn't fully understand it then, but it certainly made me think.
Strip isn't the best song off that album - an album I discuss in more depth in the post linked above. At the time I was Guardian Woman and I did question this song, and this album from a radical militant feminist viewpoint. I decided - with all the wisdom of a 15 year old virgin - that it was okay, because it did not objectify women, or if it did, it was part of a mutually pleasing sexual game where both participants had equal validity. I concluded I would never become Andrea Dworkin!
Young Parisians pre-dates all the chart success and the loud drums and rock and roll, pre-dates the radical change in line-up, IIRC the A&tA line-up then was later to form the backbones of Bow Wow Wow. The style is entirely different, a ballad-like style that somehow conjures up smoke-filled bars of the Left Bank (although my time in Paris has never extended beyond half a day changing trains en route back from Geneve). Deutscher Girls is similar, but much darker. Is there a music genre called Pop Noir?
Cartrouble, with the immortal line "Have you ever had to push?".There is also the "other" Cartrouble which is not on this album, but I do have on vinyl...I might have to get a record player one of these days. I always felt uncomfortable about the lyrics of that. Best not dwell too much...
Physical (You're So) is among the sexiest songs ever recorded. Pure Sex (isn't that what the tattoo said...?). Even as a fifteen year old virgin, I was able to grasp that, especially the grinding. I always felt that Adam's songs about sex were the expression of a man who really loved women. If I had gone down the Andrea Dworkin role I would have felt uncomfortable, instead I decided to go down the Libertine road of saying that adult consenting sex is great, and as liberated woman, I am quite capable of determining whether to give consent and knowing whether or not I did.
Friend or Foe is energetic, with the characteristic drumming, and with added brass. There was a short period in the early eighties when quite a few pop bands, whether the 'real instrument' bands such as Adam, or the synthesised electronic bands (who, in retrospect, are responsible for killing music - nothome taping) experimented with brass, and according to the bombastic pseudo-authoritarian know-all know-nothings that postured as presenters on Radio 1, this was the arrival of jazz funk. Hmm, it was short lived, and like so much music, it was derivative sampling fusion. Good if it's done well, tired if it's done thoughtlessly
Ant Rap is my karaoke track. Or it would be if a) I did karaoke and b) this was included in standard karaoke sets. So much more satisfying that "Feelings..." or "Eye of the Tiger". For a while I actually believed I could rap. I then realised that I didn't especially want to be a rapper. I think of my performance of AntRap as being a cross between reciting and singing. A mesmeric rhythm, very sophisticated. Somewhat in the style of minimalists such as Steve Reich and Philip Glass. Actually, I was quite a Steve Reich fan back then, but I've only just noticed the connection
The anthemic, epoch-making, eponymous track. And you know, from that day to this, I have never consciously tread on an ant. I love the latest comment left on YouTube to this - "he was so f'ing hot!!!!!!!!" Oh yes!
And finally, the greatest Adam and the Ants song, and a definite contender for my all-time best songs album: Stand and Deliver. Of course, we all remember the Da Diddly Qua Qua. And the innovative use of drumsticks as actual percussion instruments. And the guitar. And the video. What can I say? Straight in at number one and hitting and holding for five weeks. Correct me if I'm wrong. I ought to know - I salvaged my file of the entire 1980s Top Twenties from my mother's house the other week. They are dangerously close at hand. I refuse to fact-check.
SwapShop interview from 1981 - I wonder, did somebody record it on video back then, and recently digitise it to upload to YouTube?
You know,when I started "All the records by 40" Project, it crossed my mind that it would be nice to provide actual musical links, but didn't really know how. How fast t'internet moves... so many videos are available on YouTube, but if not, I could have uploaded audio tracks to Yahoo Groups, or audio or video to Rapidshare. I also have this album on video, but until this weekend I didn't have the means to digitise it. Yet when I were a lass, it was a matter of some regret to have to miss an airing of an Ant video on TOTP or Swap Shop or whatever.
Until my dying day, I will always be a devoted Adam and the Ants fan. Sex music for Ant people, Ant music for Sex people.
He had to go, of course, nothing else matters in Altrincham and Sale quite as much as the secondary moderns grammar schools. It is the entire reason to live in Altrincham and/or Sale. Five state funded grammar schools, plus two more fee paying for the failures. There are also secondary moderns in Altrincham and Sale. In fact, although I don't know for sure, I would guess there might be more secondary moderns. Or at least, more pupils in seocndary moderns. They're for the kids who fail the 11 plus, written off before they even hit puberty.
Hmm, he's 40. Gets out fingers (see, even a grammar-school educated accountant needs fingers to take 39 from 40). Ooh, he was the year above me, him at Alty Grammar me at Loreto Grammar, Altrincham. So, he joined Altrincham and Sale Conservative Association the year before I joined Altrincham and Sale Labour Party... was he that Dork, or was that someone else? So this campaign to save Grammar Schools would taken place when I was fifteen, attending a Grammar School, very politically aware, about to join the Labour Party, when Trafford Council was controlled by a clear Tory majority, when Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister, and no one told me that someone was trying to get rid of Grammar Schools, in Trafford, in Altrincham? Admittedly, we had some fun canvassing in 1986, pretending to dyed-in-the-wool Tories that that was our only policy. But, you know, for all the years from 86 to a couple of years back when, on-and-off, Labour controlled Trafford Council, there was never any proposals to abolish Grammar Schools. Yes, there was a parent-led petition to gauge opinion, because, you know, quite a lot of parents don't like their children to be condemned as failures at 11 and consigned to non-aspirant schools.
Ah well, I expect I'm the only person outside Altrincham and Sale who has ever heard of Graham Brady; I'm sure one more faceless chinless wonder won't be missed from the Tory front-bench. And having gone to Altrincham Grammar, not Eton, he was never going to get any position of significance, anyway. Still, better than going to Welly Road, though.
- lots of oral sex. I teach history and my Year 9s love it!" For a moment I feared this woman would think A was some weirdo pervert, which he absolutely isn't, but she laughed and said "And I suppose they then go and practice what they read." A few minutes later, after I had left them, I thought, if this woman has a blog, how would she write it - there were these two people on the Tube and one moment they're discussing Blair's legacy and Jack Straw being sacked for maintaining dialogue with Iran and Syria, and the next the man is talking to me about oral sex, and the woman suddenly disappeared at Vauxhall."
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