Pekka Kuusisto and Katarina Barruk

Pekka Kuusisto and Katarina Barruk
Royal Albert Hall

A fairly regular Sunday routine. The food shop and laundry for the week ahead has been done. I have been trying to clean the house up, and it now looks like a pigsty. 'A Place for Everything, and Everything in its Place' - well, that is the opposite of my current situation. One of those where it will need to look worse, before it looks better.

Otherwise, it is the last day of August, and I cannot help but feel melancholic at the thought of the summer slipping away from us. I have seen and heard a few flocks of Canadian geese flying away over the last week or two, and every time it puts me in a blue mood.

This evening's Prom I play on the kitchen radio, although for tea I'm only having a ready-made butty. [nice than it sounds - M&S deli range]. This afternoon I picked up a craft stout from the Bow-Legged Beagle on Telegraph Road in Heswall, and a Pistachio and Caramel Bar from the M&S there. [Yes, I have succumbed to the pistachio/Dubai chocolate craze this year, being a chocolate lover.]

I look at the roster for tonight's Prom and sigh to myself. It's a mixed bag of tunes which, for me, means it's going to be difficult to document it all. Much easier when it's a long symphony or something like that. I fear also that I am going through a bout of mental fatigue - with the Last Night of the Proms just under two weeks away, I can almost taste freedom from the chains of my own project. But the show must go on, and I transport myself once again to South Kensington via Radio 3.

Tonight it's the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra, and a vocal performance by Katarina Barruk who, according to the BBC website, is one of the few remaining speakers of the Ume Sámi language. 

I once visited Norway. It was around April 2017. I went on a long-weekend expedition to Tromsø (and as far out as Kilpisjarvi in Finland), on what was a fruitless quest to see the Northern Lights. [As it happened, I had slightly greater success in Runcorn last summer.] One thing I did take away from that trip was a love of Norway; it's people and culture [and Smash! (not the mash) - if you know, you know!].

On to the music itself which, for my own coherence, I need to pool together for it to make sense:

The first vocal performance I can only describe as 'abstract,' but it's only because the language deviates so far from my own mother tongue. Haven't been too enamored with Michael Tippett's tunes so far, and this one doesn't break the rule. But I know instantly when the Phillip Glass starts - who could mistake those repeating string whirls?! The Kendall, Bach, and Shaw all blend into one, so it must have been all right. The Avo Part I almost miss, but it blends neatly into the Shostakovich. And the Shostakovich is as dark as my stout. It sustains the feel throughout. If it's about human injustice, he did it justice. If that makes sense?

We are treated to a very unexpected ukelele and whistling encore. It takes me a few moments to catch myself on but, is that John Lennon's Imagine? It is! What a lovely nod to my home county. As it progresses, some of the audience hum along. Words then emerge! May we all live as one.

Tromsø, 2017

My house, 2025

Handel’s ‘Alexander’s Feast’

Handel’s ‘Alexander’s Feast’
Royal Albert Hall

It has been a somewhat subdued Saturday. The weather overcast with sporadic showers. Had our semi-usual family lunch at the Brown Bear coffee shop in Irby Village. My baby niece has been in Arrowe Park hospital overnight with a cellulitis of the eye - fortunately it was treated promptly and she is in full recovery and good spirits at home this afternoon, but heartbroken when my brother and I have to leave.

In a copy of last Saturday, I purchase a bottle of Ayinger dunkel bier from the Crafty Tavern, and sit down in the front room of my parents' house to listen to the Prom on BBC Sounds. I'm about half an hour behind the live broadcast on Radio 3.

Tonight it's Alexander’s Feast, by Handel. It's conducted by Peter Whelan [any relation to Bill Whelan, of Riverdance fame, I wonder?!]. It's the Irish Baroque Orchestra, and I think I catch the presenter saying something like the hall is 'glowing green.'

It's a long piece of music so, rather than shower it all with commentary, I'll just offer a few general points on the music, and a few of my random takeaways about Handel himself.

The music at whole is, I guess, textbook Baroque. It's decorative... ornate. It's powdered wigs, doublet and hose. When I reflected on some of my favourite composers the other day (Bach, Vivaldi, Saent-Sains, Grieg), I probably forgot to include Handel. With him in the mix, three out of five of these are of the Baroque period, and I do think I have a penchant for this style.

A few nights ago I blogged that I had enjoyed a pint of Guinness at The Harp Inn, at Neston. Well, on his way back from Ireland our man Handel allegedly lodged just down the road from there, at Parkgate, which, at the time, offered a maritime gateway to traffic of the Irish sea.

Back in 2016 I visited the Handel and Hendrix exhibition in London. I still have some pictures I took, which I've uploaded here as a matter of interest.

I've even had a more recent encounter with Handel! Earlier this year, I started attending history talks at Preston Brook village hall. They are put on monthly by the Preston Brook and District History Group, and the talks are always varied and interesting; nicely informal and with visitors from all over the country. Anyway, the subject of one of the talks was the Foundling Hospital in Chester, and this led on to a wider discussion about the Foundling initiative, and the Foundling Museum in London. I thought that I must visit this museum when I was next down in the capital and, in May, I did just that. Turns out, Handel was a big proponent and donator to the scheme, and there's an important collection of his works on the top floor - see my final photo below. [The ticket I bought included a one-year valid entry, so I'll be returning for a second visit for sure.]

I was actually thinking of attending this Prom; the plan being to bus it down in the morning, see the show, then get the bus back through the night. In one way I'm regretting I didn't do it because, being familiar with the acoustics at the RAH, I know it would have sounded spectacular in there. But in another way I'm glad I've stayed at home and saved some money and energy - both of which I suspect I'll need to acquire a ticket for the Last Night of the Proms in two weeks time. 

We get an encore of 'Hallelujah' from Messiah. Suppose that was obligatory wasn't it, but I'm not in any way complaining!

Handel & Hendrix in London exhibition, 2016

Gerald Coke Handel collection at the Foundling Museum, 2025

Folk Songs and Dances

Folk Songs and Dances

Royal Albert Hall

The Prom this morning begins at 11am at the Royal Albert Hall. I am in the car, having just enjoyed our usual Saturday morning family breakfast at Ness Gardens.

It's the London Symphony Orchestra this morning, and that usually bodes for quality listening. The first piece of music is English Folk Song Suite by Ralph Vaughan Williams. As you would expect, it's a jolly outing, stopping short of pompous.

Next it's Gunther Schuller's Eine kleine Posaunenmusik (A Little Trombone Music) - should be a laugh. The poor trombone is an instrument plagued with unintentional comedy. This piece, though, does have some depth. For all involved, I'm grateful for that.

During the interval there is some discussion about military bands and music, which interests me muchly. Ironically for an all-English programme, my mind can't help but wander to Scotland and one of my favourite instrumental sounds, that of the Bagpipes [for the record, I am aware there are certain English propagations of the Bagpipes]. Maybe the most ceremonial of all instruments. From a primal military perspective, I guess that, when you hear a troupe of those coming for you, you'll almost certainly run in the opposite direction.

My concentration is starting to wane during Tippett's 'Triumph', which I must say I'm struggling to decipher. I'm likewise unsure of what to comment about Michael Almond's English Dances and Percy Grainger's The Lads of Wamphray - except to say that the name 'Percy Grainger' is a perfect fit for this region of theme. And on that note, it's the one we've all been waiting for to break the monotony: Percy Grainger's arrangement of English Country Gardens. I imagine myself at a May Day fete on a village green somewhere in Buckinghamshire [we don't tend to get them in the North West.] You know what I'm talking about: there's Morris dancing, hoopla, and a coconut shy. 

Closing the show is A Lincolnshire Posy, and if I'm expecting it to follow suit of the Country Gardens, I am a little mistaken. Not so frilly is this piece; sounds more serious. What it does have in common with Country Gardens is that it carries that same, grounded richness.

Image created with ChatGPT

Late Junction Prom

Late Junction Prom
Lantern Hall, Bristol Beacon

Listening back to highlights [if that's what we're calling it] of this Prom via its Radio 3 broadcast. The original show was performed at 9pm on Friday 22nd August.

It starts off with Angel Bat Dawid, and I think she's effectively 'tuning' the audience. She's playing single piano notes and encouraging a "ah / ee / oooh". Sounds pretty good - novel idea!

Next it's a musician called Sarahsson, and I'm afraid this is where the show loses me. Please don't misunderstand me: I'm all for the expression of 'femininity, transition and synaesthesia,' but from this piece I get very little, apart from a couple of nice bird tweets. And those don't last long.

I listen through for the purpose of completion of my 2025 Proms project. But, on the same plane with Yoko Ono's artistry [oh no!], I fear I may never reach a level of intelligence to appreciate this appalling cataclysm that we're calling music. Sorry!

Image: Pixabay.com

Khatia Buniatishvili Plays Tchaikovsky

Khatia Buniatishvili Plays Tchaikovsky

Royal Albert Hall

For me, it's been another proud Friday afternoon of running. Managed a 10k in 01:06:51 to be precise. The route was perfect. Started at my house, along the Bridgewater canal to Walton Hall and Gardens, then through Warrington towards Warrington Bank Quay train station. All of this was bang on ten kilometers in distance, and I was overjoyed. Got the train back, one stop.

The first piece of music at the Royal Albert Hall tonight is Haunted Hills, by Margaret Sutherland. The opening is ostentatious and a trifle kitsch. Not to say unpleasant - the underlying strings are definitely giving it a good old 'haunted house' feel. It's not so much haunted in a modern American way, but rather I would place it in a film accidentally stumbled across on Talking Pictures TV on a Sunday afternoon. Introduced to the music is, what to me at first, sounds like someone playing the part of a ghost or ghoul. There's some incoherent kerfuffle, and I wonder is this part of the act? [this is culture, after all]. No - it seems there is something of an indiscretion at the Royal Albert Hall. The presenter Ian Skelly [I'm getting to know the Radio 3 presenters now] declares it a 'coordinated situation', keeping his consummate cool and eloquence.

We get played a peaceful Brahms, Chopin, and Bach to settle us, censoring the disturbance for those of us hooked up on the wireless. We are informed that the concert is going to start again from the beginning. Also, the Dvořák is going to be played before the Tchaikovsky, in a change to the running order, as the soloist is a little shaken up by the disturbance in the hall. 

With it being the BBC Proms, it's not rocket science to work out what the 'disturbance' is in aid of. I have a quick look at Twitter [X, if we must], and see there are 'unconfirmed reports' - guesswork, basically. I look up the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, and it seems they've got themselves into some political hot water over the last couple of years. However, I am not going to offer my own thoughts on the matter, simply because I don't understand it enough to provide a meaningful opinion. Whenever I try to read up on it, all I'm faced with is noise. [Politically, the far-right and the far-left dislike the BBC in equal measure, so it only takes a simple mathematical equation to tell us that, in actual fact, it tries to float somewhere around the centre.] One thing I do know is that there is nothing noble in frightening someone. And as with all 'protests' of this nature, the subject of their protestation is the same thing they literally funded on the way in. Such is the idiocy of these people.

Just been thinking back to some other times when I've witnessed unsettling disruptions during a performance. One of them was actually at the Royal Albert Hall, back in 2013, when I went to see Eric Clapton perform there. It's documented on YouTube somewhere. Near the end of the show, a 'fan' jumped onto the stage and (if memory serves) tried to grab EC's leg, probably so he could boast about it to his mates. Fortunately, security at the RAH was on to it like a flash. EC, to his credit, managed to virtually ignore what was going on, and continue playing the song (it was either the encore, or the final song of the main set). Something very similar happened when I saw Sterophonics at the Liverpool arena in 2022, to which Kelly Jones quipped: 'you've got to pay extra for that.' Classy comeback!

Back to tonight's schedule at the Proms, and the second piece is Dvořák's Symphony No. 6. I wouldn't call it relaxing, but there's a beautiful energy to it, and it's very pleasing to the ear.

During the interval there's some chat about what it means to be a 'assistant conductor' - I didn't know this was a thing, but I suppose it makes sense!

And finally, the Tchaikovsky. God, it's glorious. I think Ian Skelly is right to compare its famous opening to Beethoven's Fifth - because it really does make for a worthy competitor. As I mentioned when Tchaikovsky's 2nd was played earlier in the run, I was first introduced to his 1st when I watched the 1990 film Misery: and I often visualise a romantic version of myself typing away furiously at my laptop keyboard, trying to keep up with all these Proms blogs - as Thchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 plays in the background.

Image created with ChatGPT

Saint-Saëns’s ‘Organ’ Symphony

Camille Saint‐Saëns, Symphony No. 3 in C minor

Royal Albert Hall

I decided to take today off work, using up the lieu day I have accrued from working the bank holiday on Monday. My parents take care of my niece on a Thursday, so I decide to spend the day with them. It's such a tonic being in the company of my nearly two-year-old niece, who is developing quickly now and repeating lots of words. As has become customary when I can get there mid-week, we go to Carr Farm in Meols, and I enjoy a coffee and sample one of their fantastic sweet treats! [today it was an Americano, and a chocolate-topped waffle with a Mars Bar on it. 3 scoops of vanilla ice cream.]. 

I am back home late-afternoon, and in time for the live broadcast of tonight's Prom on BBC Radio 3. I listen in the back kitchen while cooking. It's an all-French Prom tonight, but it's a mixed bag [or is it just me starting to struggle after listening to so many Proms?!]. For my own benefit, here is a snip of the running order taken from the BBC website:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/ej3wxj

First up it's the Bizet piece, and his is a name I have been taking note of over the last few days. I'm sure I heard a piece of his that I liked on Classic FM earlier today in the car, and was there something of his played at the CBeebies Prom the other day? Not too sure. Anyway, this L' Arlésienne is really interesting. The presenter tells us that this means 'the girl from Arles,' and I have to say that Arles is a place I've long had on my list to visit, reason being that I know Van Gogh had an association with the town. Sounds like a romantically cultural sort of place. Wonderful music.

Next on the running order is Carmen Fantasy, which ChatGPT now informs me was "Sarasate’s virtuosic adaptation of Bizet’s opera Carmen." Something annoys me though, because I instantly recognise the Habanera section - I think it's from a recent TV advert that has been played to death. And so, sadly, all I get from this section of the programme is a mild annoyance. It's a shame when TV destroys music. This is something I was chatting with my friend about, in Hoylake, this Saturday afternoon just gone. The same tragic fate fell upon Buddy Holly's Heartbeat, and Grieg's In the Hall of the Mountain King movement which, once you shake off the naff Alton Towers association, you come to realise the raw, terrifying magic of the instrumentation:

After the interval it's Andromède, which is nice enough but I only note that the opening brass falls short of a state-coronation vibe [not even sure if that was Augusta Holmès's intention]. 

Finally, we have Saint-Saëns’s ‘Organ’ Symphony:

The organist at the Royal Albert Hall this evening is, I gather, a resident of Coventry Cathedral. I went there on a school trip once, must have been circa 2002. The cathedral stood out to me because it had a huge tapestry of Jesus Christ, overlooking the central nave. Seem to remember hearing that Jesus here was drawn (or stitched) with no pupils in his eyes, to give the illusion that he is looking straight back at you, no matter where in the room you are looking from. [Side note: I bought a luminous-blue bottle of Powerade during the coach rest stop on the way back - funny the things you remember!].

As I have previously mentioned, Saint-Saëns is a favourite composer of mine. His Danse Macabre is, to my ear, one of the finest pieces of music in existence. This third symphony of his shares some of the traits of the aforementioned. It's a restless sea that forces you off balance. It's music that not only evokes emotions, but threatens to snatch away your control over them. It's dangerous, it's thrilling. And just like all adrenaline-inducing phenomena, it's strangely addictive. 

The Marriage of Figaro

The Marriage of Figaro

Royal Albert Hall

Tonight I'm taking a detour into Liverpool after work, as I need to collect an Ikea Kallax unit (1x4), that I've bought from someone on Facebook Marketplace. £10 and ready assembled. A couple of light marks. Perfect for my little bedroom which I use to store my own musical instruments and music books, the latter for which I need said shelving. These books have been the best part of two years in plastic bags all over the show.

This evening's Prom begins at the earlier-than-usual time of 18:30, due to the length of the work, (Mozart's Marriage of Figaro) that is going to be performed. I'm driving back home when it begins, but at least I'm with the live broadcast this evening, for the first time since the busy Proms weekend in Bristol.

Let's talk about two irreverent things my mind wanders to when the music starts:

1) The opening tinkle of this piece of work is a famous one, and it always takes me back to the 1971 Gene Wilder film, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. There's a scene where Wilder's Wonka [the one and only, IMO] plays a little melody on tiny piano, in order to unlock the door to the chocolate room. Mike Teevee's mother pipes up, proudly declaring it to be the work of 'Rachmaninov,' in an arrogant effort to showcase her cultural knowledge. In actual fact, it's the opening to Mozart's Marriage of Figaro - and this is how I like to remember it's Mozart, hoping I never fall into the same embarrassing trap.

2) Secondly, my mind is floating to the 1993 film Mrs Doubtfire, in which Robin Williams sings 'Figaro, Figaro, Fi-Ga-Ro!', while holding up a funny little music stand. Chat GPT informs me that this is actually a reference to Rossini's Barber of Seville, but it is the same Figaro we're talking about here - the character having been invented by the French playwright, Pierre Beaumarchais. 

As for what is happening at the Royal Albert Hall, I'm speechless. Even though I'm only listening on the radio, the quality of the performance is crystal clear. It's spotless. These are seasoned pros, and I wish I was there to witness it all in raw vision and hearing. Anyone who knows nothing about classical music will tell you that their favourite composers are 'Beethoven and Mozart.' There's nothing wrong with that, and it's obvious these boys are mainstream for good reason: their music gets as close to touching perfection as is humanly possible. 

 

It does drag on a bit though, and I'm left wondering when the interval is going to kick in.

There's the odd titter from the audience which is over my head at home. Something I'm recently starting to take away from Mozart is that he seems to like a bit of playful extravagance. The presenter calls it 'Mozart's Comic Masterpiece', and I think that's a fair conclusion. 

Sibelius’s Second

Sibelius’s Second

Royal Albert Hall

It's my uncle's birthday, so after work I return home for a couple of hours, then head out to Neston, where I'm to meet my family and we'll have a drink at The Harp Inn. For the uninitiated, The Harp is a cracking little pub, with a view of North Wales over a vast marshland. Ideal for this warm, late-summer evening. Even more ideal is the pint of Guinness.

So it's not until I get back in my car [for the record I only had one pint], that I join the proceedings at the Royal Albert Hall, a little behind the live broadcast, on BBC Sounds.

First up it's some music by Arvo Pärt, who we've heard from a couple of times on this Proms run, and who celebrates his ninetieth birthday this year. Yes, I'm thinking as I drive, this is exactly the sort of music I like. It's emotional, with a hint of self-indulgence (which is the best sort). This piece is called Cantus in memoriam Benjamin Britten. The name rings a bell [I'm not thinking of Benjamin Button, am I?]. Looking him up now, I see now that Britten was an English composer. So that's three English composers I have now heard of and need to learn more about. So far, it's Delius, Elgar, and Britten.

Dvořák's Violin Concerto in A minor plays through while I'm on the motorway. Hate to say it but, while it was nice enough, I don't note anything stand out about it. Perhaps it would have benefitted from a listening environment that enabled greater concentration.

I'm back at home by the time it's for the interval, and tonight's discussion about the orchestra itself has hooked my interest. It's the Leipzig Gewandhausorchester, which apparently is the world's longest-running symphony orchestra. Hear something about it being in existence even in Bach et al's time of life, so it must be a bit special. It's also interesting because I'm toying with the idea of visiting Leipzig next summer. If the trip comes to pass, I want to visit the Bach museum there, and maybe there'll even be a chance to see these guys play a match at home, so to speak?

Sibelius's Symphony No.2 closes the evening. Overall I'd say it's a relaxing piece, albeit a bit sombre.

CBeebies Prom: A Magical Bedtime Story

CBeebies Prom: A Magical Bedtime Story

Royal Albert Hall

It's been a hot and sunny bank holiday Monday, though I have been working from home today, covering the fort. Not too stressful, with reduced hours of 10am-3pm, and it stays pretty cool in my old house. I haven't been running for a few days, so I do a 6k afterwards.

After all this, I am sitting comfortably in my tub chair, so I press play on BBC Sounds and today's Prom begins [a couple of hours behind the live schedule]. The Story Fairy is late and, not for the first time in my life, I'm wondering what I'm doing here [this is Taylor Swift all over again]. I think the story is that the story itself is lost, and we are on a quest to find it.

I giggle to myself, because the incidental music is actually reminding me of the Anglo-Amalgamated Carry On films. The orchestral music on those films was top notch as a matter of fact, but further to that I think we'll draw a discreet veil over the topic.

While I'm sure there's a captive audience at the Royal Albert Hall, somehow I'm struggling to imagine preschoolers being glued to Radio 3 at home. Maybe there's a catchment for those children who are being fed a deliberate diet of P.L. Travers, Michael Bond, and Beatrix Potter; as opposed to those on a more relaxed regimen of Cartoon Network and YouTube.

It's not long before I hear the beautiful opening of Grieg's Peer Gynt. I just love it: it's the epitome of springtime beauty expressed in music, and I think it's a great choice for introducing kids to classical music - well done whoever organised, I don't blame you for throwing that in! [This may well have been the first piece of classical music I ever became familiar with myself. I remember my parents had a CD of it, with a lilac flower on the front cover - might still have it somewhere.]

There follows a glorious roster including Pizzicato Polka by Strauss, Here Comes the Sun by George Harrison, and Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker. Christ, the kids are getting better music than we adults are! But why not? In my humble opinion, the best way to get children engaged in classical music is to make it accessible in the first instance. Just play them the good stuff, and they'll enjoy it. One or two might even be sparked into learning more for themselves.

Personally, I would have paid good money to be there.

Under the Italian Sun (Bristol)

Under the Italian Sun
Bristol Beacon

The final Prom in Bristol for what has been a packed schedule this bank holiday weekend. I'm listening in my bedroom on my Bose speaker which I bought in John Lewis Liverpool with a voucher for 5 years service with work - 8 years ago! [recently relocated from the breakfast room because it was a bit too boomy for that space. The new IKEA Nattbad speaker stands there now, and they both sound great in their new spaces!].

I've travelled a fair bit through my youth, though Italy is a place I've yet to visit. It is high on the list, but I suppose part of me has thought I'd put it on the back burner until I find some authentic romance. At 36 though I may need to accept defeat and do this as a solo journey before too long.

First up it's William Tell - now there's a name from the past! I'm sure I played this on piano at school [state secondary modern so, when I say piano, what I actually mean is a Casio keyboard with permanent-marker drug symbols and penises sketched on it. It did have a built-in floppy disk drive for the purpose of recording/playing back MIDI, which at the time I thought was miraculous!] It must have been Year 8 or 9 (so circa 2001-2003), and it served as an introduction to playing notes staccato.

Second piece is Puccini which, as I've mentioned in previous blogs on this run, I'm familiar with through my times of watching opera performed at St George's Hall in Liverpool, having seen Suor Angelica and Tosca there. Hard to know what to say about this piece but it's got a great sound. Enjoying it very much.

Next up it's Berio, and I'm still treading carefully with my assessment of his music. But this piece is nice enough. Strong vocals.

During the interval we hear talk of a phenomenon known as 'The Grand Tour.' Apparently, this was a rite-of-passage ritual for noble and aristocratic young men of about 21 years of age, where they would go on an educational tour around Italy. Commonly they would bring trinkets back with them, and hence why we in England have a few nice pieces of Italian tat hanging around our stately homes. If I'm not mistaken I think I hear something about there being some artifacts on display at the Holburne museum in Bath - will look into that, out of interest.

After the interval it's Verdi, and there's some great rolls here. Glorious fanfare!

The mezzo soprano gets a rumptious ovation following Ottorino Respighi's Il tramonto.

Lastly, I've noted down a question mark. Elgar? Why is he on the running order? Surely he's the most 'British' of all composers? Not that I know much about him. I look him up on Wikipedia and it says this: 'Although Elgar is often regarded as a typically English composer, most of his musical influences were not from England but from continental Europe'. That makes some sense, then. Tell you what, it's a bit special! This could be the beginning of a new relationship. 

Mozart, Prokofiev & Bartók

Mozart, Prokofiev & Bartók
Royal Albert Hall

Still behind the live schedule, I'm listening to this Prom early evening on Sunday. It's been a glorious day, and I'm sitting in my garden area, with laptop, JBL mini Bluetooth speaker, and a cup of tea. There's a shower curtain in the washing machine, because I've heard you can do that [Side note: worked quite well! Could maybe just do with another run to seal the deal].

It's Mozart, it's Prokofiev, it's Bartok.

Mozart I already know (who doesn't?), Prokofiev is a name I've heard a few times over the last few years, usually on Classic FM when I've heard something and thought 'I quite like that one.'  His is a name I've often heard alongside Shostakovich - looking them up online now, I understand why.

Bartok was foreign to me until earlier on in this Proms season.

The Mozart starter is perfect music; how couldn't it be? It's his 'Paris' symphony, and, as I remarked yesterday, Mozart seems to lean towards benign pomp in his music. But I like that about him!

The Prokofiev follows suit, insomuch as the music is spot on. There's a section where the strings are sharp, and by that I do not mean they are out of tune. I mean that they're presented with a timbre that rips through the other instrumentation. Sounds belter!

After the interval it's to be Bartok, and this is a Concerto for Orchestra, which I now understand [from earlier interval discussions in this Proms season] that this is something that is going to give all the instruments a moment in the spotlight.

Predictable opening to the Bartok, and I don't think it's the sort of music that lends itself to relaxation on a late-summer evening. But I do appreciate it for what it is, and it's something special for the right setting.

Image: Pixabay.com

Mahler’s Fifth

Mahler’s Fifth

Royal Albert Hall

It's Saturday night and I'm already weighed down with the packed Proms schedule from today. I'm behind the live schedule, so it's knocking on for midnight when I start playing this last Prom of the day. I'm getting into bed and I play it through my headphone cans. For me, it's not the best time for the BBC to pull out these bad boys, i.e. Berio and Mahler. Don't want night terrors tonight, thank you very much.

It's a stark opening to Rendering by Berio, which I'm led to believe has Schubert's unfinished symphony at it's core. So it's difficult to know who to give the credit to. Almost thought we were on for another Beethoven's Ninth there for a minute: the instrumentation is deep and works on multiple levels. It's big in scale, and in this way it puts me in mind of Wagner's Die Walkurie. It sounds good; glad I put it on! Yes, I can really get on board with this. Excellent!

By the time the first half finishes I am at the end of my rope, and ready for bed. Mahler will have to wait until Sunday.

I listen to Mahler's Fifth wholly in the car, but in various chunks throughout the morning/early afternoon as I flit from my parents' place in Irby, Ness Gardens, our late-grandparent's bungalow in Neston [soon to be sold], and back to my own house in Runcorn [nicer than it sounds - could have called it a canal-side cottage in Cheshire]. It concludes at exactly the moment I park up in the drive - nice one!

The opening to this Mahler, I note, sounds a bit like Mendelssohn [I get a flashback to the Theme to Midsummer Night's Dream Prom I attended in 2016, for some reason.] It's not bad, you know. But, again, it's music on a big, industrial scale. Apparently the fourth movement of this was sent to Alma Schindler as some sort of declaration of love. She later married him. In my experience, such a gesture would get me blocked and ignored for life. It's all right for some.

Sibelius, Mozart, Arvo Pärt and Gavin Higgins (Bristol)

Sibelius, Mozart, Arvo Pärt and Gavin Higgins

Bristol Beacon

This was an early evening Prom but I'm tuning in via BBC Sounds, a few hours after the live broadcast. In preparation, I've walked over to Irby village and bought myself a bottle of Ayinger from the Crafty Tavern [a specialist beer/ales shop], and a Twirl multi-pack from Irby Local. I do like a dark ale, with my current favourite being the Augustiner Dunkel. I'd say this Ayinger is a touch more hoppy/malty than the Augustiner, and it ain't half bad! Just what I'm in the mood for :)

The Sibelius starts off superbly. The strings are like silk, and this feeling is sustained throughout. A bit of peace and relaxation, finally - thanks BBC Sounds, glad I tuned in! 

Next up it's Tabula Rasa by Arvo Pärt. If I was worried it was going to break away from the feel of the Sibelius, then I needn't have. The strings gel together on multiple levels, and it follows the mood of the previous piece we heard. It' a bit melancholic, mind. It's the sort of music that would play out in a film scene where a character is having a reflective moment about the episodes and events that have made up their life so far. Perfect background music for a beer and some chocolate. I vowed I wouldn't use the word 'sublime' this weekend, but it's hard not to in the face of something so... sublime! I'm becoming slightly inebriated from the drink as this piece goes on, and the music only adds to what becomes an opioid level of relaxation. Indeed, I haven't felt this good since the Fentanyl/Midazolam cocktail I was given before my colonoscopy at Arrowe Park hospital last year.

Rough Voices by Gavin Higgins offers something of a sobering-up. The opening is like a bucket of cold water. Not that pleasant at all after the previous music. It does settle down, but with a dark undercurrent. 

Mozart finishes us off. Feels a bit pompous in places, but isn't that what Mozart is all about?!

One Fine Prom!

Danish National Vocal Ensemble (Bristol)

Danish National Vocal Ensemble

Bristol

This Saturday afternoon I caught up with an old friend for a cake-and-coffee in Hoylake. We last got together about seven or eight years ago (funnily enough, at the exact same venue and at the same time of year if memory serves) but we picked things up like it was yesterday. [For posterity: the venue was Barbetta's (formerly 'Toast') on Market St, and I had a latte and a slice of carrot cake].

So it is that I'm listening to rest of today's packed Proms schedule a few hours behind, with thanks to BBC Sounds.

This Prom, as the title suggests, is to be largely choral stuff. For me, this is something of a struggle to put into words, because I'm much more at home with instrumentation. It's the Danish National Vocal Ensemble, and I believe these are the same peeps that so successfully contributed to Beethoven's Ninth at the Albert Hall the other night.

This afternoon in Bristol, however, we start with Bach to set us in the mood. The presenter notes that this piece is thought to be something to do with funerals [I'm sure she puts it more eloquently than that, but I can't remember her exact words]. It's Bach, so it certainly sounds heavenly. 

Second piece is by Ethyl Smyth. Apparently she spent a spell in gaol, and that's something she has in common with Bach! Did not know that - must look it up.

Absolutely clueless as to what to comment as the running order contiunues, except to say that most of it is pleasant, and some of it reminds me of a Christmas choral work I've recently come across and enjoyed, namely Lully, Lulla, Lullay.

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András Schiff Plays Bach

András Schiff Plays Bach
Royal Albert Hall

The first of four Proms today. It's going to be tough to keep on top of it all, and my brain isn't capable of retaining this volume of material all in one go. Handy, then, that this morning's Prom at the Royal Albert Hall is a single piece of music, and it's by my probably-favourite composer, Bach (though he does face stern competition from Saint-Saens, Vivaldi, and Grieg).

I've just left the Botanic Kitchen at Ness Gardens, which is where I am to be found nearly every Saturday morning, having coffee with my parents, uncle, siblings, and niece. The music starts when I'm in the car. It's a piano solo, I think. Doesn't seem to be any other instruments. [is it a piano duo?]. And my God, it's divine! Bach always comes up with the goods. I could listen to it all day, which is just as well considering the length of the piece.

I transition form the car to the living room at my parents' house, and allow myself to drift into a semi-unconsciousness as the music plays. It's that type of music, but it does seem to end a bit abruptly and this jolts me from my state of rest. Apparently the last part of the manuscript was lost, so the piece is incomplete. Surely a tragedy felt to this day.

According to the BBC website, Sir András Schiff [the bloke playing the piano], has commented: ‘The greatest work by the greatest composer who ever lived.’ He could well be right.

Symphony of Sorrowful Songs

Symphony of Sorrowful Songs

Royal Albert Hall

No sooner have we finished with Paraorchetra and The Breath in Bristol, that we are transported to Albertopolis for this evening's offering in London.

Tonight it's 'Symphony of Sorrowful Songs'. It bodes to be a juicy Prom, not least of all because I do love a good weepie when it comes to music. As Taupin and John once observed, Sad Songs Say So Much.

We open with Bach. Don't think I need to say much more than that, do I? It's a pitch perfect (obvs!) organ chorale, reworked in sterling fashion by Ottorino Respighi, I believe.

The second piece is a UK premiere of Thomas de Hartmann's Violin Concerto. It's a grand piece, and it is sorrowful. The BBC website describes it better than I can: 'emotive, cinematic Violin Concerto, a lament for the Nazi destruction of his [Hartmann's] homeland.' (Source = https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/erj4mb)

The Symphony of Sorrowful Songs starts with very low-pitched, deep brass. At least that's what I think it is? Could it be tuba or two? I'm not sure. It's not foreboding or atmospheric. Quite dry. To my interpretation, this is how the piece continues. It's sad, I'll give you that, but it's a matter-of-fact sadness. It's almost like a 'state-sponsored' sadness - something one might expect from a North Korean dictator's funeral. I can picture the crowds now, hurling towards the casket like a bargain-hunter on Black Friday, tears freshly manufactured from a quick squirt of mace. Don't get me wrong, it's alright as symphonies go. There's some powerful vocal work in it, and I can't mark Górecki down for that. Personally though, it's not something I'd play if I was feeling sad and wanted to be self-indulgent about it. For that, my current tracks are Together Without You, by Alexis Ffrench, and O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, the version by The Piano Guys.

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Paraorchestra and The Breath (Bristol)

Paraorchestra and The Breath
Bristol Beacon

Bristol is a city I have only become familiar with in the last four years, with my first visit being in September 2021. I've since been back a few times, and I never pass up on an opportunity to return. The word 'bohemian' often comes up, and I totally agree. I love the contemporary Brisolian in-your-face multi-culturalism, and take satisfaction in knowing that those 'controversial philanthropist' shithouses, like Edward Colston, would turn in their graves if they could see this peaceful and happily-mixed city today.

And it's the Bristol Beacon, formerly known as Colston Hall, that hosts tonight's Prom. When I'm in town I always like to see a show if there's something on, and in the past I've visited the Bristol Old Vic and The Bristol Hippodrome. But, alas, not yet the Bristol Beacon. So I don't know much about the venue itself. I have a look online at some interior pictures, and it reminds me of The Bridgewater Hall in Manchester, or even our own Philharmonic Hall in Liverpool.

In my ignorance, for some reason I thought the Paraorchestra was something to do with parachutes. I think it's because there's an annual hot air balloon parade in Bristol, isn't there? But no, the Paraorchestra is in fact an orchestra formed of members with disabilities. I didn't know such a thing existed, but why shouldn't it?

Tonight it is a duo called The Breath, and they're being accompanied by the Paraorchestra, led by Charles Hazelwood. 

The music starts and, to me, it sounds folky. With a name like The Breath, that now makes sense. It's like an EPIC folk music. Hard to put my finger on it, but a bit like singing around a campfire, on a large scale. There's some interesting instrumentation. Is that a low Irish tin whistle? And I think I hear some uillean pipes? I think it's Ríoghnach Connolly (that makes sense), who talks during a break in the music, and she's both witty and human. She mentions Belgian colonial hand-chopping when talking about the song Antwerp, and I note that as a shrewdly overserved quip.

Some of the inflections remind me of the music of Jose Gonzales, and I'm a fan of his. [One of the best concerts I ever saw was him at the Royal Festival Hall, backed by the String Theory orchestra, in 

2017].

A Prom that offers me something new is always welcome, and I see that The Breath have a gig coming up at the Davenham Players theatre in Northwich, on Thursday 25th September. It's about a 25 mins drive away from my house, so I may well pop along to that.

Image: Pixabay.com

Beethoven’s Ninth

Beethoven’s Ninth
Royal Albert Hall

In a surprising contrast to last night, it is not I, but the proceedings at the Royal Albert Hall, that are running late. Arrivals from Radio 3 are played some pleasant time fillers until they're ready to take us in.

First up it's Bent Sørensen's Evening Land. Starts with tranquil stings, though they're struggling to get off the ground. It's quite eerie to tell you the truth. Must have been a tumultuous night that Sørensen is describing.

Next up it's Anna Clyne's The Years, and there's absolutely a feel of 'As Time Goes By', as the choral work sets in. "Where does the bloody time go?" is a question I oft ask myself. A bit later, the instrumentation offers up some really sharp twists and - fittingly for tonight - I get a flash of one of my favourite TV programmes, namely Inside No. 9. [Side note: looks like there's a good article about 'The Curse of the Ninth' in my BBC Proms guide - must have a proper read of that when I get chance].

As part of my job, I call hospitals on the telephone on a daily basis. One particular hospital has set a permanent 'all our users are currently busy' message on their main line, and it plays you a nice piece of classical music while you wait. I was hanging on this line one day, about a year or two ago now, and I really liked the music. But I didn't know what it was, and needed to find out. So imagine, if you will, the time when I put my work phone on loud-speaker, and opened up the Sound Hound app on my personal phone, allowing it to take a listen to the weak and distorted tune on the other line. After a few failed attempts it finally caught the hook - it identified the music as Beethoven's Ninth, and such was my introduction to this extraordinary work. [Incidentally, the excerpt I heard on the phone was the opening of the second movement.]

I'd be here all night trying to drag out the right words to describe this 60+ minute symphony, so I'll leave on this final reflection:

During the interval, Anna Clyne is asked why she thinks Beethoven is still THE composer, even after all this time? I can't remember what she said now [I'm sure it was a good answer], but my own opinion on the matter boils down to this simple concept: his work ebbs and flows with almost the same fluidity as mother nature.

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Bruce Liu Plays Tchaikovsky

Bruce Liu Plays Tchaikovsky

Royal Albert Hall

I'm half an hour late to this evening's Prom, but not without good reason. My parent's were in the area and we dined out at the Ring O' Bells pub in Frodsham. Good reviews apparently, and it did not disappoint. For my part I enjoyed a '14 Hour Braised Beef and Ale Pie', washed down with a pint of J.W. Lee's Manchester Pale Ale. Finished it off with a raspberry bakewell with custard, and an Irish coffee. A feast fit for a hero.

I arrive back to mine in a daze of happiness and, thanks to the wizardry of BBC Sounds, I'm able to listen to tonight's Prom from the start. And talking of wizardry, it's Bruce Liu at the keys this evening. I have no need to wash any dishes etcetera tonight, so I plump for the living room HiFi to enjoy tonight's programme.

The first piece is Antrópolis by Gabriela Ortiz, which apparently is a homage to urban nightlife in Mexico City. Bodes for a full-flavoured piece, and, not for the first time this evening, I'm pleasantly satisfied. It's a heavily percussive broth, with a soupçon of the flamenco. Very tasty!

Next up it's Tchaikovsky's Second Piano Concerto in full. I'm a fan of Tchaikovsky's music, first encountering it, I think, from the 1990 film Misery. One of the many powerful scenes in that film features Tchaikovsky's piano concerto number one. So... I'm very familiar with his first, but what of his second? It's perhaps not as intense as the first, but it's Tchaikovsky all right - all the hallmarks are there. Softly floating bubbles of piano, kept airborne by smooth strings throughout.

The encore to the first half is a corker - we're treated to a rousing rendition of Scott Joplin's Maple Leaf Rag, with the percussion joining in the fun being led by the piano. Any aspiring pianist will tell you that this (along with The Entertainer) is a must-learn piece, but it's incredibly demanding to play. I hear a bit of a chuckle from the audience when it starts. And why not? It brings us all back to life after the unabridged Tchaikovsky. One fine rag!

The interval plays and I draw the curtains - this is happening noticeably earlier than last week.

I'm very happy with how things are going so far, but have no clue of what to expect from the final piece, which is Pictures at an Exhibition by Modest Mussorgsky. It kicks off and, Oh My GOD!, it's the theme tune to the The New Statesman! Rik Mayall's number one fan right here, but that's something I'll have to fill another blog with sometime.

The presenter Ian Skelly muses that the capacity crowd will be heading home, 'walking on air.' I know I would be. Unexpectedly, one of my favourite of the 2025 Proms so far. I'm pleasantly stuffed tonight, in every possible way :)

Pappano Conducts Puccini and Strauss

Pappano Conducts Puccini and Strauss
Royal Albert Hall

Tonight we've got a bit of opera! Two operas, in fact: 

1)  Die Frau Ohne Schatten (The Woman without a Shadow), by Richard Strauss

2) Suor Angelica (Sister Angelica) by Giacomo Puccini.

It's to be the first time Suor Angelica has been outed at the BBC Proms. But guess what... I've met her before! Yes, in 2019 I went to see a performance of Suor Angelica at St George's Hall concert room in Liverpool. Before that time I had never seen an opera before, so it was a bit of a bucket list job more than anything. (It was on a double-bill with Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana, but it was the Suor Anglica I've remembered more, out of the two). They were performed by the North Wales Opera Company. Before tonight's Prom airs I have a root around to see if I can find the programme from the time, and I am successful - it's under my bed, amongst the mountains of other tour programmes and museum guidebooks I've hoarded over the years [It's times like these I glad I did - thank God for Ottoman storage!]. I even find my programme from Prom 48 at the RAH on 2016 - the one and only Prom I had attended before this year - I will add a photo and more about this, retrospectively, in my Introduction Blog from the start of the run.

But on to the music, and first up tonight is Die Frau Ohne Schatten, by Strauss. It starts off with some short, coarse tears on the lower brasses. Feels like a summons. The strings soon take over though, and it's a breath of fresh air. It's glorious! Repeating a simile I have already used, it's like wandering at leisure though a floral meadow. Lots of lilac, green, and yellow colouring. Is this a bout of musical synesthesia I've got? Yes, it's beautiful. It's majestic, but in a benign way, rather than the forceful way. Is it extroversion? I do think it is, now that I think back to that meadow. 

There's a bit of Mahler and Berio during the interval and, Oh My God, it's not that bad. Also a bit of Bach, never-a-bad-thing, on piano, to soothe us through.

Second half is Suor Angelica. What is there to say about it, really? Obviously it's a solitary piece, and that in itself is what makes it stick out to me. I have a read of my old programme from St George's Hall in 2019, and it offers me a 'plain English' synopsis of the tale - which follows through as I listen. It's a tragedy as old as time, and arguably even more tragic now than when it was first written. Because we, as modern listeners, are all too aware that that reconciliation with her son and Our Lady at the end, are nothing more than one final, pre-death hit of noradrenaline.

Elder Conducts ‘A Mass of Life’

Elder Conducts ‘A Mass of Life’
Royal Albert Hall

Sir Mark Elder is conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra tonight, and he's a big proponent of Delius. I've never heard of him, but after this show I'm left wanting more! It's deeply romantic [Elder tells us], very moving, and there's an immediacy of power...

I'm spooning out my avocados as the music begins, for it's Monday night and a quickie eggs-and-avocado-on-toast (a regular go-to) is on the menu. It certainly does start powerfully, with a choral ensemble (we've had quite a lot of choral over the last few evenings). Unlike last night, I'm not seeing a regal coronation in my mind, but something more generally benevolent. It's like a celebration of... life itself?! Maybe I'm on board with this!

The ensemble quietens, and we're taken to a more operatic part, with one bloke telling a story I don't understand. I'm imagining him in full lederhosen - not just because of the German thing, but because there's a mild (only mild) jollity about it. A female voice joins in, and later a subtle ensemble hovers underneath them. They all fly together with erratic beauty (like a group of butterflies, is how I picture it).

As standard, I scrub the dishes during the interval.

Tonight we hear a lot about the sublimity of the music, but we hear not of "it's another capacity crowd at the Royal Albert Hall!". How can that be, one wonders, if the music is so great? (And it is great, by the way). My hunch is that we are now starting to enter the 'Deep Proms' area of the run, by which I mean this: these are now the more esoteric shows, for which invited opinion is still quietly reserved for your Oxbridge academics, clergy, Etonian hooray Henries, and me. Gone is the effortful display of diversity on the stage - and with that, presumably, in the arena. But that's not to discount anybody's opinion, because they do all count. And I try to not allow my own biases obscure my interpretation of the raw music.

The second half has a completely different feel. Much slower, but it's still peaceful and joyous. The choral motifs are reminding me of Christmas carols, and they are every bit as wonderful. It's a bit Walt Disney in places, and the image that comes to my mind (honestly) is the handsome prince expressing his improper longing for Snow White when she rejects his advances. It's an outdated image, I know - but there's a more appropriate and up-to-date one to be found in this beautiful music, as long as enough people are asked.

Gets a bit more celebratory towards the end - she must have woken up!

Image: Disney (whatsondisneyplus.com)

Le Concert Spirituel

Le Concert Spirituel
Royal Albert Hall

Sunday evening at the Albert Hall offers 'Le Concert Spirituel'. I have a quick look on the BBC Proms website, and it's all unfamiliar territory for me. Haven't heard of any of the artists or composers. It's two pieces by Alessandro Striggio (who?), and they start with the words 'Ecce' and 'Ecco'. Could it be something akin to Howard Goodall's Ecce Homo, AKA the Mr Bean theme tune??

The bell chimes to mark the start of the programme, and I haven't got a clue what to expect. The music begins and it's heavily choral. The image I'm getting in my mind is of a church service for a condemned man - he's led down the centre aisle, hands tied behind back, on his way to the hangman's noose. Maybe this image is a reflection of my own insecurity about being somewhere completely foreign. Up until now, I've usually managed to crack out an anecdote or aside, linking the artist or music to something I've experienced in my own life. I have nothing to offer with this one, I'm afraid. But that's not a bad thing, necessarily. We all get lost sometimes.

I'm being premature - it brightens up! Now it's sounding more like a royal coronation, sanctioned and decreed by God (as the early royal appointments were, of course). Musically, it's glorious!

I place a petite, elliptical pizza in the oven. 

The vocals dissipate and the brass instruments take over, in an almost like-for-like switch. 

While I may be at a loss for words regarding the music, there is something almost spiritual about the scent of baking bread and bubbling cheese, as it slowly pollutes the air throughout the ground floor.  

While it was all unknown to me, I have to say that the music was, for the most part, very pleasing to the ear!

Mid term reflections

Mid term reflections:

Now that we are, roughly, half way through the 2025 BBC Proms season, I wanted to take a short moment to reflect on how it's going so far.

There's no doubt it's been invigorating for the mind, but also a royal pain in the arse with respect to it fitting in with my daily life. On the coach back from London on the first weekend, I started to get a sinking feeling that I had bitten off more than I could chew. However, as my routine has settled I have gotten into a rhythm with it. The all night Prom was a turning point: it posed the biggest threat to my momentum, but I got through it. So I now have more confidence that I will get safely to end of the season without toppling.

I have also had some generous and flattering feedback from a handful of people on Twitter (X) who, it seems, have enjoyed reading my unfiltered and piecemeal opinions of each Prom. (I have been posting short excerpts from each blog post on X and Threads, for the benefit of anyone who would like to share in this journey.) That feedback does a helluva lot for motivation - a bit like having someone cheering you on as you hit 'the wall' when running an actual marathon or similar. However... I am mindful that I must stay true to the original purpose of this blog, and resist any temptation to play up to the cameras, as it were. The minute that happens the project is doomed.

Interestingly, something else has happened which I wasn't expecting. Not only am I discovering more classical music that I enjoy, and getting a clearer background and history of artists only half-known before, but I'm also developing a feel for the classical music I don't like. As mentioned in previous blogs, I wasn't fussed on the Boulez and Berio, and Mahler I can take or leave. But I recognise I'm in the minority.

Here's to the next four weeks (!)

Photo by me.