Beyond The Proms: Delius and Ravel

Beyond The Proms: Delius and Ravel
Runcorn, February 2026.

Welcome to this, my very last (I promise) 'Beyond The Proms' post, pertaining to the 2025 run of concerts.

As the 2025 season played out, the BBC (mostly BBC 4), aired a handful of related documentary ditties, profiling the composers that were, posthumously, taking centre stage at the Royal Albert Hall. At the time I was knee-deep in writing up my thoughts on each concert, and could see only as far as what was about to hit me next. I therefore took the opportunity, with the help of a piece of software and my limited tech knowhow, to scalp a couple of said programmes from BBC iPlayer to watch at a later date, before they expired and disappeared from the platform.

From all the composers showcased at the 2025 BBC Proms, I have chosen two to focus my attention on: Delius and Ravel. Not so much their music, but rather a quick examination of their biographies.

Why those two?

Ravel stood out to me as a man who had composed with an element of altruism. His Piano Concerto for the Left Hand was performed at the 2025 Proms by Nicholas McCarthy, and one cannot help but become endeared to Ravel for this seemingly kind gesture. I happened to be chatting to an old friend and work colleague about this (there was a fire drill at work around the time), and he mentioned - for he is a learned man - that there were other composers who did this, or similar. Looking it up now for a refresher, I learn that the central figure around this phenomenon was one Paul Wittgenstein, a well-known Austrian pianist who lost his right arm in WWI. Various composers - not just Ravel - penned compositions for him.

Delius was a name I was unfamiliar with before the 2025 BBC Proms, but through the acquaintance of  Richard Bratby on Twitter, I was directed to the film Song of Summer. During the Proms run, the BBC iPlayer had this film running, plus another offering in the form of Delius: Composer, Lover, Enigma. So I downloaded them. I have just looked back at what I wrote when I listened to A Mass of Life on the radio, and it turns out I did enjoy the music very much, though I was curious as to why the RAH was not a sell out that night, apart from the obvious it being Monday.

What to make of Ravel?

I watch the BBC programme, and it is an old-school Auntie [BBC] piece of profiling - I make a guess late 60's to early 70's, and I am thrilled to know I was in the ball park, its one and only prior broadcast being in 1973. 

He was from southern France; the Basque region. A pianist who, latterly, did compose in tribute to his friends fallen during the First World War.

It seems he was one of those frequent-but-rare 'separate from his peers' types at college. Something 'special' about him. Adopted a Dandy image in his early adulthood (a la Beau Brummel) sporting a slick beard. He entered the Prix du Rome numerous times, and he did achieve second place in that French prize, one time. Looking on Wikipedia now, I can see that his exclusion from the prize on his final entry caused some controversy.

For me, I think actually the most exciting thing to learn about Maurice Ravel is that he was intrigued by American jazz and blues, which is some common ground we share. He even called the second movement of his violin sonata no. 2, 'blues: moderato'. How about that?!

And what to make of Delius?

I start with the film Song of Summer, which is focussed on his later years. The story starts with a young buck from Scarborough, Eric Fenby, travelling out to France to live and work with Delius; by now an old curmudgeon, blinded by syphilis. His [Delius's] every whim tended to, there is a curious homoerotic undercurrent to their relationship. I may need to read Delius, As I Knew Him by Eric Fenby, the book this film was based on, to get more insight on this working relationship. At time of writing it is available to borrow on archive.com.

Next up is Delius: Composer, Lover, Enigma, which opens with a tale of his midnight burial, somewhere in Surrey. 

A rummy character, our Delius. He liked his sex, apparently having a string of liaisons with women and fathering a son, as you do, with a lady on his orange grove in Florida. I don't get it. Personally, the age-withered Delius reminds me of Terrence Hardiman in The Demon Headmaster, who in the nineties frightened me and a generation of my peers. But... oh, and but... I remember being gripped to that programme after school. True edge-of-your-seat stuff for tweenagers of the era. And perhaps the same can be said for Delius. I would metaphorise him as an elegant pastry whose cream filling has gone off - even though you balked and spat it out in disgust, you look at it again and there is something willing you to take another bite, as if it'll taste better the second time.

There is talk of his opera Koanga, which intrigues me. Delius, like Ravel, is not adverse to a 'blue note' here and there, and one of the interviewees [I forget which] suggests that there almost a touch of Gershwin about it. That's no bad thing, in my view. There is even a line for banjo in Koanga. 

Interesting to note is his acquaintance with Grieg who, as I have mentioned in previous posts, in one of my personal 'all time' composers. And there is a feel, to me, of a 'Grieg-on-steroids' in Delius's music. Sensually grand.

Sir Mark Elder (who conducted A Mass of Life at the 2025 Proms) is interviewed on this film, and he talks about how he took a different approach to Delius than did Sir Thomas Beecham (who was sort of the first 'champion' of Delius). The two interpretations are played one after the other to demonstrate the difference between the two. Despite being the same piece of music, I am blown away by how different they sound.

Finally, I am very much on board with how the Delius listening experience is compared to being 'still' - as if the music is not moving and you are admiring a static piece of art. Yes - I had not thought about it like that before, but I completely get that!

----------------------------

And that really is it! The very last thing to say is that I am now looking forward to the announcement - ordained for April 21st - of the 2026 BBC Proms roster. While the scale of my 2025 project shan't be repeated, I will perhaps look at something smaller-scale.

    

Beyond the Proms: Becoming A Composer by Errollyn Wallen

Beyond the Proms 
Becoming A Composer by Errollyn Wallen
Widnes Library

As well as being the home of the Stone Roses' infamous Spike Island gig, and the train stop where Paul Simon allegedly wrote Homeward Bound, Widnes now carries a third musical claim to fame: the town where I borrowed Becoming A Composer from the library. Apt, in this town so rich in musical history. It must be a very recent print I'm holding, because the appearance of EW's The Elements at the First Night of the Proms 2025, is actually mentioned in the introduction/critical acclaim page.

What follows is not a review of the book. I am sure there are vastly more qualified critics who can offer a verdict on its integrity. Rather, this post is me writing about me; what did I absorb from reading the book? And what do the Master of the King's Music, and a Runcorn factory worker, have in common? An improbable query, but I will put it forward that there are one or two things:

The first, and most obvious, one: we are both composers. EW's interview on the First Night of the Proms 2025 was what piqued my interest in reading the book in the first place (that, and the fact that I spotted a nice edition on sale in the Royal Albert Hall gift shop.) In the televised interview, she spoke about drawing inspiration for compositions from colours, shapes, and the like. In 2021, I set about composing an orchestral pastiche of Eric Clapton and Michael Kamen's 'Orchestra Nights' at the Royal Albert Hall in the early 1990's. That run of concerts proved a triumph for the famous electric guitar player. I was too young to have been in attendance, but the next best thing, as I saw it, was to try and recreate the sound, and experience the thrill of playing along to it with my own Fender Stratocaster. And it was electric.

The point is, I have the music in my head, but the way I get it out of my system is crude by comparison to those who notate and formulate a soundly-structured piece, in line with a formal education in music. I, by contrast, sit in a back bedroom in Wallasey, directing my friend Sean (who has a more 'proper' education in music than I do), and he works his magic on the keys, both piano and qwerty. We toil over the notes on the Cubase software; attempting, wherever practicable, to make the orchestral instruments sound real. (Thank God for MIDI).

The product of our efforts throughout 2021 was Explaudere: a five-track record of fantasised orchestral music, with electric guitar lines threaded (tastefully, I will add) throughout. A chance page-turn in the i newspaper brought me to Susie Dent's Word of the Day which, on this particular day, was 'Explaudere': the Latin expression meaning to drive a performer off stage by clapping. That is, to give them a slow-hand. And there was the title of my record. Bingo!

Astonishingly, when I listened to EW’s Concerto Rosso recently, there is a rhythmic pattern of notes that is eerily similar (though a different tempo) to my very own Faccio Ancora, which is the final track of Explaudere. In actual fact, for this I drew inspiration from Paul Simon’s Can’t Run But, after seeing him perform it with a small ensemble during his Hyde Park show in the summer of 2018 [a second Paul Simon reference for you there]. To me, the instrumental music of Can't Run But sounded like an engine: well-oiled pistons weaving in and out. I wanted to evoke this on one of our own pieces.

Back to comparing myself with proper composers and, otherwise, I learn that Johann Sebastian Bach is a mutual hero of ours. And we both apparently have a penchant for the Baroque.

Something we definitely have in common is our sweet tooth. EW talks about her cake diet. Chocolate is my vice. 

And we both inhabit homes of character: she in a lighthouse in the highlands of Scotland, me in a two-hundred-year-old canal-side cottage. Both, I'm sure, offer their own charm of serenity and inspiration.

’Round Midnight with Soweto Kinch (Sunderland)

’Round Midnight with Soweto Kinch
The Fire Station, Sunderland
24th July 2025. Documented retrospectively, 21 December 2025

Today is December 21st, the Winter Solstice. Christmas Day is but a stone's throw away, and there are a handful of intoxicated bottles to my left, waiting to be engulfed in giftwrap.

My BBC Proms marathon is now a few months behind me, and I am, honestly, trying to let it go with the dignity it deserves. One problem though: it ain't complete.

That's right, due to the limitation of the broadcasts, it was not possible to cover every Prom in real time. This quest will never be wholly complete, though I guess the most meaningful quests never are. This particular Prom was recorded for radio, but its broadcast was not released until mid-October. It was then when I took the chance to download it. [Good job I did; looks like they've since taken it down.] And it is not until today, that I have gotten the motivation to transfer the mp3 file to a USB stick and shove it into my HiFi.

Before all this, I was never a big Radio 3 listener. Classic FM (don't judge me) does tend to be more 'accessible' for the fledgling Classical listener such as I, where an off-the-cuff tune in to Radio 3 can often feel like one has intruded on a church choral service, at a rather inopportune moment. Where every slot is the graveyard slot, so to speak. But there is evidently some more to BBC Radio 3 than first meets the eye. The Proms, of course. And other hidden gems such as 'Round Midnight with Soweto Kinch, which puts its focus on Jazz, rather than Classical. If I'm honest, this is the type of programme I would expect to be enjoying on Radio 2, rather than Radio 3. But I suppose someone decided there needs to be some element of 'spice' to 3's programming.

This is one of the BBC's 'levelling up' Proms, having being hosted in Sunderland, as opposed to the Royal Albert Hall in London. Most of the Proms outside of the capital, I've noticed, have been of the more 'accessible' type, which I'm not sure if I take as unintentionally patronising. Still...

Jazz is another genre of music that I have acquired a taste for in my thirties.The first act, whom with my ear I hear as Ruth somebody-or-other [later find out it is Rivkala], opens with a jazz that is electronic and 'modern'. Removed from the Miles Davis type sound that makes me want to pour out a glass of Scotch, but certainly influenced by it.

Next up it's the Joe Webb Trio, and their sound is more piano-centric. Chimes very much form the same billboard as Dave Brubeck, including walking lines on the double-bass [or should that be running lines?] As it happens, they are celebrating 100 years since the birth of Oscar Peterson.

Finally there is an offering from Theo Croker, who introduces a trumpet lead into the proceedings, which are again the modern/electro sort of jazz sounds.

Oppenheimer is on BBC 2 in half an hour. I'm off to check that out. 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/e36mzc

 

Beyond The Proms: Winter Watching

Beyond The Proms: Winter Watching
Norton Cottages, 25^th November 2025

November. While I am not yet roasting figurative chestnuts, I am enjoying the character of my period cottage by sustaining a raw fire in my living room on a near-nightly basis. Yesterday I enjoyed my thirty-seventh birthday. How did that happen? With that, I am treating myself to a week off work and a chance to type up one more reflection of the BBC Proms 2025. The following is not a jactitation, but a reflection on where I’ve got to at time of writing, and what is still ‘on the list’ for the coming winter months.

Back in September, I ticked off another item on my ‘bucket list’ ledger, by watching and listening to all – or as near as dammit – of the BBC Proms from this year. It was a hefty undertaking, with a lot of new information to take in. The BBC Proms finishing did not spell the end of my project. Rather, it nudged it to the next stage, which was (is) the consolidation of everything I picked up along the way.

The first step has been to start watching all of the Proms TV broadcasts back, because many of these were released weeks after the actual performance and radio broadcasts. While I still have more to watch, this has been really enjoyable. Seeing it all happen again, appreciating the nuances that I may have missed on the radio. I particularly enjoyed watching the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra do Dvorak’s 9^th (New World) symphony, and also the televised version of the Viennese Waltzes Prom, which the radio broadcast had left me craving.

The aftermath of the Proms has also left me with a list of materials to follow up on, as follows:

Books

I have made a note to retrieve Errollyn Wallen’s book, Becoming A Composer, from my local library. I am confident that it will be an absorbing read.

Documentaries and dramatisations:

During the 2025 Proms run, I had my first meeting with Frederick Delius. BBC iPlayer currently has on its docket, Delius: Composer, Lover, Enigma. I have downloaded this, and also Ken Russel’s Song of Summer from 1968 which was recommended to me.

Another composer I accumulated a liking for (amongst others) was Maurice Ravel, not least of all from learning about the concept of the Piano Concerto for Left Hand. At the time of the Proms run, iPlayer had a Ravel documentary up, which I downloaded at the time.

All of the above will, I hope, be consumed ahead of Christmas. There is something else on iPlayer right now called Mozart: Rise of a Genius. Might be worth a punt.

Movies:

Just last night, I pulled out the Alfred Hitchcock DVD box set and enjoyed the experience of rewatching Vertigo – not so much a film as a work of art. I had only seen it once before, and it had been many years since. I had forgotten James Stewart was the lead, and I like him a lot. Not only that, but Bernard Hermann’s score – the one I heard on the ‘Classic Thriller Soundtracks’ Prom – is chilling, in a beautiful way. This is the second Hitchcock outing I have had since The Proms, because I was gagging to watch The Man Who Knew Too Much which, aside from being another outing for Bernie Hermann and Jimmy Stew, features tense final scenes at the Royal Albert Hall! The music from this film had a rare outing at the Last Night of the Proms this year, so what could be better?! It was interesting to look at a 1950’s Royal Albert Hall on film. While in many ways recognisable, the movie exposes the difference in the interior décor of the building, and customs from the time – when cigarettes were both predominant and fashionable. It took my mind back to watching Woody Allen’s 1993 film, Manhattan Murder Mystery. In it, there is a scene in a small hotel with typical North American décor. A bit dingy – looks like it could have been pulled from the 1950’s. As a note to myself, this is ‘Hotel 17’ on East 17^th Street, where I lodged for a week in April 2013.

While the Proms were running, iPlayer had Shaft and In The Heat of the Night available to watch. Both of these featured on the Classic Thriller Soundtracks Prom, so I took my chance to have a watch of these before they were removed.

Otherwise, I recently picked up Taxi Driver for about fifty pence in a charity shop. That will, similarly, be a worthy rewatch after a gap of many years. I also downloaded The Italian Job from iPlayer – I know of its cultural prevalence, but this will be a first-time watch.

Finally, I have recently watched the 1997 Studio Ghibli film, Princess Mononoke after spotting it on Netflix. It was nice to dip back in to Studio Ghibli and the music of Joe Hisaishi. I have a few others on DVD-R that I recorded from Film4 some years ago, but have never gotten around to watching. Maybe this is the time?

Wishlist of live performances:

By no means an exhaustive list (just some highlights, and no doubt one will lead to another, and so on...) These will do, for starters:

Beethoven’s 5^th and 9^th, Dvorak’s 9^th,, Greig’s Peer Gynt and Piano Concerto No.1, Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1,Vaughn Williams’s London Symphony.

I also have Saint Saens’s Danse Macabre and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (complete and with full orchestra) on the list, but these were already there before the Proms project.

In terms of venues, I am now interested in attending something at the Royal Opera House in London. Surprisingly, I have never attended a performance there. I have got close to joining the daytime tour a couple of times, but something else has always cropped up. I would go as far as mentioning the Sydney Opera House, but that may need to take an indefinite back seat. Never say never.

That’s about all I can think of, for now. As my blues guitar hero Eric Clapton always says: See You Down The Road!

Hotel 17, NYC:
A 1950's Royal Albert Hall?

Beyond The Proms: The Breath at Davenham Players Theatre

The Breath
Davenham Players Theatre
Davenham, Northwich, 25th September 2025

Today is Monday 13th October, so I am writing up this account a few weeks in retrospect. The gig itself took place on Thursday 25th September. As I write this, the Autumn Leaves [the namesake of an old favourite tune of mine, incidentally], are making for a pleasant spectacle around the confines of my home. I have been enjoying the return of a busy schedule, having lately been to see Fiddler on the Roof at the Liverpool Empire, Moulin Rouge at the Palace Theatre in Manchester, Troilus and Cressida at The Globe, and Dead Ringers 25th Anniversary Tour at the Floral Pavilion theatre in New Brighton. And with lots more to come before Christmas. All familiar venues to me, but the show I am writing about here took place at a venue and location that was completely unfamiliar, despite it only being a twenty-something minute drive away from my house.

On the evening of Thursday 25th September, I take a shortish drive to Davenham, just on the south end of Northwhich. It turns out to be a charming little hamlet, with a spackle of cute tea rooms and a pub, The Bull's Head, offering a centerpiece. 

The venue is the Davenham Players Theatre, and it has not doled me a ticket. This show forms part of the 'Jazz@Davenham' initiative, and so in this spirit my name is added to a guestlist upon request, and I'm to pay at the door, £13 cash or card. It's a nice touch: very Ronnie Scott's! The auditorium is cosy, with a makeshift feel to it. It's like a village hall that has been decked out to look the part - and it does. It carries, I noted, a familiar scent that is common to church halls and charity shops: a cross-pollination of Parma Violets and hair lacquer. The walls and ceiling have been draped in black fabric, and there is some mobile stage lighting dotted about the place. The acoustics feel sufficiently dampened, and it all makes for a terrific little venue I have to say.

The sound levels are good for such a small room; not too quiet or too loud. And the music that follows is my cup of tea. Stuart McCallum sits to play the acoustic guitar, which he does with mastery. Ríoghnach Connolly delivers a fine vocal performance on all songs, with humorous interludes and anecdotes throughout the set. My favourite tunes are the ones with the supplementary instrumentation. She plays what looks like a table-top squeeze box, of which I am sure there is a technical name. On some songs she also plays a flute - this makes the music feel more 'Irish,' and it is this what moves me the most.

Before I go I have a quick chat to Stuart McCallum who is in charge of the CD and vinyl sales. I let him know that I had only recently discovered them, having heard their Prom on BBC Radio 3. He tells me it was a surreal experience (or words to that effect), and I intimate that it must have been extraordinary with the orchestra backing them. I want to buy a CD: it's a tenner cash, or twelve with card. Regrettably I have no cash on me, but it is twelve pounds well spent. I had a listen back when I got home and it's a very pleasant disc, packed with music I will no doubt chill to when the mood directs me. 

This is the beauty of doing things like the Proms Marathon. If it wasn't for the BBC Proms I would not have known about The Breath, and if it was not for The Breath I would not have encountered Davenham and its charming theatre. The venue is now on my radar for any other acts that might tickle my fancy.

Concluding Remarks

Concluding Remarks
Norton Cottages - 17th September 2025

What did the BBC Proms mean to me before 2025? What do they mean to me now? Finally, I have ample time to reflect on this without more music coming for me at 100mph. By pure chance, I am off work this week. Today is Wednesday 17th September. Even after the Last Night of the Proms on Saturday night, I have been busy. This is how the last few days have played out:

Saturday 13th - Last Night of the Proms
Sunday 14th - Coach back to Liverpool, and Eric Idle at the Liverpool Empire.
Monday 15th - Drive to Stratford-upon-Avon to see Measure for Measure at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre [this now brings me to 32 plays in my other cultural quest to see every known Shakespeare play performed live].
Tuesday 16th - enjoyed some shopping in Stratford in the morning, then drive back home about 1pm (getting home about 3pm).
Wednesday 17th - a much-needed 'lazy day' at home (but I don't like to have too many of these). Time to type up my final thoughts on the BBC Proms Marathon of 2025.

As I remarked in my introductory blog, I had only attended one Prom concert before this year. [Two if you count Proms in the Park, 2017]. Oftentimes I had caught the odd couple of minutes of a television broadcast, but for some reason I never committed. I did always feel like I was missing out on something, though.
    Trying to chronicle all eighty-six concerts form this run was inevitably going to be too much material for my brain to cope with in one go. The best I could hope for was that I would retain some 'highlights', and I am pleased to say I have been successful in that. When I was out shopping in Stratford yesterday morning, I wandered into the Oxfam there, knowing full well I would find some discarded classical CD's and vinyl. I came out with The Planets and Grieg's Piano Concerto/Peer Gynt, both on vinyl; a CD of Ralph Vaughn Williams's London Symphony, and another CD of Dvorak's New World symphony (aka the Hovis music) played by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. Coincidentally, it was exactly this orchestra who played the Dvorak piece at this year's Proms! All of this was music (amongst others) that had stood out to me during these Proms concerts - I would not have been inclined to buy these media otherwise [wouldn't have known what half of them were!]. The point here is that this is what the BBC Proms Marathon of 2025 has ultimately given me: a deeper relationship with classical music, yet one that is just beginning. For example, I am now clear on the difference between a concerto and a symphony - God knows, I've heard enough of them. 

The original spark of this idea came from my own romantic image of myself, strolling over to the Royal Albert Hall box office every morning during the summer months. In a roundabout way, approaching the project mostly from radio broadcasts and blogging has made for an even more meaningful experience. I would never have retained all that information by casually rocking up at the hall every day. Instead, I have written about all the concerts and downloaded all the broadcasts for posterity - when I read my blog back in years to come, I can also reference the exact broadcast I was talking about. No doubt it will be as humorous as it is embarrassing.
    I was beyond flattered to have been interviewed about this project by Frances Wilson, aka The Cross-Eyed Pianist. Knowing that the blog had picked up an audience was a great motivator for maintaining it, and seeing it through to the end. I also happened to spot that my admission of never having heard of Frederick Delius had prompted an indirect pause-for-thought in one of Richard Bratby's articles for The Spectator, and for that I was tickled pink - so much so that I went out to buy a hard copy which I will keep amongst my mementos. While there is no pride to be found in ignorance, there is something noble in confessing it; and, moreover, to it opening an avenue for new knowledge. In any case, that I got chatting to these good people along the way is testament to the worthiness of it all.

2025 was definitely the right year to have done this. I had an almost-clear diary for the whole 8-9 week run. This is rare for me, and the blank space was calling to be filled with another extreme project, undertaken by a chronic bachelor trying to find the next thing to take his mind off it. What would be the chance of such coincidental blank space in future years? And what of the future of the BBC Proms broadcasts themselves? I think most people are aware that the writing is on the wall for the old TV Licence model. Many a time I have overheard people proclaim - with pride - that they no longer pay their TV licence. While I acknowledge its many faults and checkered history, I personally still favour the BBC for my own consumption of current affairs and entertainment. I find the quality of its content (on the whole) far superior to what you will find on, for example, Netflix and the like - where a phony opinion-piece can easily be dressed up as a 'documentary'. But it is the likes of this, sadly, that threatens the BBC into 'modernisation'. When the BBC switches to a subscription model, will it still be able to fund the BBC Proms broadcasts in the same way as always has, or will it be forced to scale it down to almost nothing? Hopefully it won't come to that, but who knows? The BBC is far from perfect, but we will miss it when it's gone.

And there we have it. It is, genuinely, an emotional goodbye from me. But as I alluded to earlier, this is hopefully just the beginning of a new relationship - not only with the BBC Proms, but with classical music as well.

It's been heaven, it's been hell. I'm sad it's over, but I'm glad it's over.

Fin.

Both photos by me.

End of Proms Service

End of Proms Service

Holy Sepulchre London

It's the morning after the night before [The Last Night of the Proms]. My National Express bus to Liverpool is due to depart London Victoria coach station at 10:30am, and my alarm is set to 9am, so that I can get there on time. This afternoon there is to be a 'End of Proms' church service. Traditionally, I read, this is when Henry Wood's bust is removed from its temporary summer home at the Royal Albert Hall, and placed back at his graveside - his ashes are interred in the Musicians’ Memorial Chapel, so I believe.

This service is to be held at 3-4pm. My initial thoughts were that I would like to retrieve a ticket. However, before this Proms run came about I had booked to see Eric Idle's Always Look on the Bright Side of Life Live! show, at the Liverpool Empire, and this starts at 8pm. No matter, because the service is to be broadcast on BBC Radio 3, and, in a way, it will be nice to tune in that way, because this is how I have done it for most of the run.

When the time comes, I am sitting on the coach and I place my cans on my ears, ready to listen to Radio 3 on my phone. However, there is someone in the seat next to me, Facetiming someone at an inanely loud volume. I can't hear a bloody word of this service. Sod this, I thought, I'll listen back on BBC Sounds when I get back to Liverpool, because there'll be a couple hours of dead time between getting back and the show starting.

After a pint of tank Pilsner Urquell at Albert's Schloss in Liverpool (and a burger at Archie's on Ranelagh Street), I head back to my car which is parked at the Mount Pleasant multi-story. I sit here and press play on BBC Sounds. I have to say, the ambience of the place does not quite live up to the Royal Albert Hall and the like, but nonetheless it's the best I've got - Cinderella's coach thus reverts to pumpkin.

The service plays out for a few minutes, and I am wondering what is going on. The announcer soon butts in to tell us that we are now going across to the choral evening song at the Holy Sepulchre London (I thought we were already there?!). This plays out for a couple of minutes before the broadcast goes silent. After about a minute the announcer says that 'due to ongoing technical issues,' BBC Radio 3 is not continuing with this broadcast, and will instead play something that was recorded the other year.

That's no good for me. To be loyal to the Proms, I am in need of a pointless ritual to mark an end of the season, and thus get closure from what has been eight weeks [nine, to be precise], of Proms listening and blogging. What should I do??

Before attending Eric Idle's show I nip over to a newsagents and buy myself a packet of five Hamlet cigars. Incidentally, I do not smoke. [Toyed with the idea in 2011 when a girl rejected me and I wanted to do something 'rebellious', but nothing since then.]

    I get home about 11pm [Eric Idle was cracker, by the way]. I am still a bit flustered from the proceedings of a long day of travelling and suchlike; but, once I've put the bin out, I sit back down in the living room and kick off my shoes. I play Bach's Air on the G String on my HiFi, lighting a Hamlet cigar with the strike of a single match. For anyone wondering, the level of relaxation was everything the advertising campaign told us it would be. I won't lie to you, I enjoyed it immensely - and for that reason I cut the rest of the cigars in half and put them in the bin.

So, to quote Eric Idle with regard to the anti-climactic finale of the End of Proms service: Always Look on the Bright Side of Life [at least I heard a couple of minutes of it!]

And to quote the Lord's Prayer in regard to Andy's 2025 BBC Proms Marathon: Thy Will Be Done.

Last Night of the Proms 2025

Last Night of the Proms 2025
Royal Albert Hall

Hang up the bunting, pour out the Pimms! It's the one day a year when the BBC can officially licence us to whip out the ol' Jolly Roger, and wave it about a bit!

From my house, I drive over to Mount Pleasant park in Liverpool, then walk down to the Liverpool One bus station. I climb aboard the National Express coach when it rolls up, just a few minutes before its 8:30am departure. It's an 'express service,' that has been running over the summer weeks and which bypasses the normal stop in Birmingham. I have made use of the service a couple of times over the last weeks. It's very good value [£15.80 return ticket, which includes all 'fees'], and it's much more reliable than rail has been over the last few years. The only caveat being that this one is an old 'Selwyn's' bus; the charge points don't work and one gets the odd unpleasant waft from the on-board toilet. It's a good run down though, and I am asleep (on and off) all the way to Milton Keynes, so that makes the weight of the journey fly by. Thereafter, I listen to some Mp3s. 

Another good thing about the National Express service is that it drops me at Marble Arch, which is at the heart of where I need to be. Once alighted, I make my way over to Daunt Books, where I have a click-and-collect order to pick up. The book in question is 'London: The Hidden Corners for Curious Wanderers', by Jack Chester. Saw it on Instagram the other week, and I buy it for the sole reason that I know it'll look cracker on my coffee table at home. [Never bought a book from Daunt - it's a bit of a mainstream tourist spot (they do as roaring a trade on tote bags which one sees on the tube all across the capital). For book shop ambiance I would, as a rule, gravitate to John Sandoe's in Chelsea. But I can't fault the customer service at Daunt - they even gave me 10% off the book because it has a faint scratch mark on the back cover (which is barely noticeable)].

Then I go across to Scandi Kitchen on Great Titchfield Street, where I intend to pick up a bag of the Norwegian snack, SMASH! [think salty crisps covered in chocolate]. I'm incensed to find out that they now do this in bar form. [and I'm even more incensed at the £5.99 price tag - but what the hell.]

I eat a Waitrose butty and cupcake on a bench on Oxford Street, then I walk over to my room, which is located at a nondescript terrace property on Devonshire Terrace. After I booked it, I happened to spot some of the reviews, and they are unanimously terrible. I'm provided [by email] with a key code for the front door and the bedroom door. To be honest, while it leaves a lot to be desired, the bedsheets are clean, and it's more than adequate for me, for one night. I have certainly stayed at worse establishments in my time. I doze again for an hour or two, and then it is time to make my way to the Royal Albert Hall. I don a white Charles Tyrwhritt 'leisure' shirt, which rarely gets an outing but is ideal for tonight. 

My 'usual' stroll across Kensington Gardens, to reach the Albert Hall on the other side, and it is another perfect evening for it! I am offered a free 'Thank EU for the Music' flag outside the hall, which I take happily [hereby revealing my forever-stance on Brexit]. Once inside, I also get two Union Flags [or Union Jacks, if you will] for £1, and a programme for £10, at the official RAH merch. I then take my seat [Rausing Circle Y, Row 5, Seat 238]. I had been a little concerned by the 'restricted view' status, but I submit that I could not have had a better seat! Not only was I overhanging the stage with a full view of the orchestra, but I also had an unrivalled vantage of the audience - which is where a lot of the action is going to play out tonight, let's face it!

The music:

The conductor is Elim Chan, and she is one of the best conductors I have ever seen. She opts not to use a baton, and I like that, personally [not sure what reason is they do or don't]. Her hand movements are fluid and tightly controlled. Even when the entire orchestra is playing and vastly outnumbers her, one feels that she has a full command over every movement, calling for a clear stop and start without ambiguity.

The first half is all fabulous! A lot of pieces I recognise but could never put a title to them until now. 

Trumpet soloist Alison Balsom plays her final performances this eveining, and she takes the reign on Johann Nepomuk Hummel's Trumpet Concerto in E flat major. It's a glittering performance which earns her about two-dozen single roses. 

I absolutely love Arthur Bejamin's Storm Cloud Cantata, from the film The Man Who Knew Too Much. This is a film I have never seen, but I am aware now that some of it is set in the Royal Albert Hall itself, so I must watch it at my first opportunity. [Think there's a Hitchcock DVD boxset at my Mum and Dad's, somewhere - must dig it out.]. When the organ joins in it takes my breath away - I don't think I've ever been at the hall for a show where the organ has been played.

After the interval we have some of the 'celeb' performances. We are treated to the highly-anticipated orchestral version of Bohemian Rhapsody, joined by Brian May and Roger Taylor on stage.

There's a fab Festive Overture from Shostakovich [glad to hear some of his music after learning more about him on this run]. 

There's a medley from My Fair Lady  - awesome!

Later, comedian Bill Bailey takes control of the typewriter, for a funny Leroy Anderson piece of the same name. Later, he also jumps on the organ for some comedic playing. I actually mentioned Bill Bailey by name in one of my blogs from last week, when I was talking about the sound of the manolin/mandola - little did I know then that it would be he who would inject my needed Bach at the Last Night of the Proms, via Toccata and Fugue!

Finally, we get to the usual Last Night of the Proms routine. It's Henry Wood's Fantasia on British Sea-Songs. It's Rule Britannia, it's Pomp and Circumstance, it's Jerusalem, it's the National Anthem, and it's Auld Lang Syne. Having never actually watched the Last Night of the Proms on television, I was somewhat surprised to see all the audience rituals, and everyone seemed to know the drill. There was bending at the knees, performative crying and theatrical dabbing of the eyes. For my part, I waved my two Union Jacks and EU flags, all with pride.

[Just before closing, a quick note from me on patriotism. Dr. Samuel Johnson was attributed with saying something like 'patriotism is the last refuse of the scoundrel.' He was spot on, and this holds just as true today as when it was said. Earlier today, there was a march in London by reportedly 100+ thousand 'patriots' - also known as right-wing thugs. These are the people who claim to love our country, whilst simultaneously pissing Carling over it. When I was at school - a state secondary modern - these were the people who were at the top of their game. They were too cool to do homework, and they ruled the the roost. Fast forward twenty years, and now they claim to be victims. Victims of 'the establishment', looking to scapegoat decent and educated people - some of whom may just have another skin colour to themselves. Make no mistake: give them an inch of power, and they will snatch a mile. And the first thing they will come for is our science, and our culture. By contrast, the patriotism exhibited at The Proms is, in my opinion, a benign patriotism - the likes of which was last seen at the 2012 Olympic games. It is patriotism that celebrates inclusivity, and all things that genuinely make Great Britain great. As part of her conductor's speech, Elim Chan declared that this is something we should never take for granted [I can't remember her exact words] - and I absolutely agree with that.]

After the show I get the tube from South Kensingon back to Paddington via the Cirlce Line. I get a Chicken Big Mac and apple-Sprite drink from the McDonalds on Praed Street, and I take this, and all my Proms memorabilia, back to the doss house where I am lodging for the night.

John Wilson Conducts Bernstein and Ravel

John Wilson Conducts Bernstein and Ravel

Royal Albert Hall

It's Friday night, I have finished work and run 10k, and tomorrow I am attending the biggest party on Earth. And yet, there is something of a melancholy about me this evening. 

I switch on the kitchen radio and tune in to BBC Radio 3 at 19:30, for the last time, to listen live to The Proms 2025. This routine has become a 'Groundhog Day' motif this summer and, while has often been a pain, gets nostalgic when it comes to an end. This is my own Last Night of the Proms. But all things must pass, and Andy's BBC Proms Marathon 2025 is no exception.

Earlier today I saw the news on social media that Brian May and Roger Taylor have been announced to play tomorrow night's 'Last Night of the Proms.' Great news in my book! Bill Bailey as well, so that should be fun. I saw some mixed opinion in the comments, with some remarking of a 'dumbing down' of the Proms etc etc. These are the same morons who will castigate you for enjoying classical music 'just because it was on a film'. If it was up to them, The BBC Proms would be running a very unimaginitive roster. Not every act has been my cup of tea, but I do understand the need to cater to a wide and diverse taste, especially in today's world, else The Proms Go Bust. [I can see the headline now with Henry Wood's bust as the accompanying image]. Don't get me wrong, I have been known to quip that - if you ask someone who is a bit dense who their favourite bands are - you will always get the same two answers: Fleetwood Mac and Queen. But here's the thing: I like those two bands as well. And the favourite composers of the aforementioned classical music snobs? Mozart and Beethoven.

Tonight's Prom is a love-themed Prom. What do I know about romantic love, I hear you all ask? Not very much, as it goes. Now - if it's unrequited love - I'm 100% your man! I know much about the sense of coming second place (or third...). I know the feeling of looking at that special someone, happy and excited to be with someone else. I know that sinking feeling when you go out on a first date and she walks out on you half way through. I know the embarrassment of when somebody asks 'is it because you prefer boys?' And I know the sorrowful reflection upon reaching your mid-thirties, thinking you might have had a family by now but that it's getting a bit late in the day. But - to lighten this up a bit - I also know the joy of a life lived exactly how I have scripted. Of travel, of music, of meditation. Of blogging eighty-odd BBC Proms without hindrance, and to hell with the consequences!

So, the first piece tonight is Strauss's Don Juan, and I have known a handful of these cads in my time. Oftentimes they have run away with the object of my own fancy. However, too many times have I seen the rise and inevitable fall of 'love's young dream'. Such are the themes of this piece of music, so I take satisfaction in knowing I got something right.

We then have Leonard Bernstein's Serenade. Unfortunately I don't absorb much of it, being now too encased in my own self-pity [it'll pass in a minute - always does.]

What better way to lift my mood than the announcement of an encore drawing from Johann Sebastian Bach - they know my Achilles heel! It's the final movement of Bach's violin sonata no.3. A Proms debut apparently - madness!

After the interval it is Daphnis and Chloe by Maurice Ravel. The whole thing is magical. It's a piece of burning glory. I am biased, though, because the last word of this Prom becomes 'Chloe'. This is the namesake of my baby niece, and so, for me, it's a reminder that love is not just romantic. Love is familial. And with regard to the next generation, love is a duty.

My Fridge Door.

Brahms’s Second Symphony

Brahms’s Second Symphony

Royal Albert Hall

Standard day at the office. Cycled in.

Tonight - for the first time since before the weekend - I am listening to the live broadcast on BBC Radio 3. No house guests or work travels for the rest of the week - only the build up to the Royal Albert Hall on Saturday night!

    I listen tonight on the kitchen DAB, where I would say the majority of these Proms have played out over the summer. As with all these things when they near their end, there comes a melancholy mixed in with the relief. It will soon be over - so I may as well savour these last couple of nights which, for me, will go on to define the summer of '25.

We have this evening a return of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, and with them a choir 102-strong.

The first piece is by Giovanni Gabrieli. I must have intuitively known it was Italian, because, when trying to think of an assessment, all I can hear in my head is Steve Pemberton in character as Pop, exclaiming 'Is good! Is good!'. I even go so far as to imagine the cliched Italian hand gesture that's used as a signal of discerning approval. In short, I do approve.

Next it's Stravinsky's  Requiem Canticles, for which the presenter tells us is 'only' fifteen minutes long. No need to apologise - at this stage I personally think we could do with dialling down the syphonies and concertos, and make way for a fantasia or two. Tell you what, though, this is great. The bows are bouncing on and off the strings at the beginning, and it sounds fab. If a little erratic. Then it's choral - must be these 102 voices that we've heard about.

The second half harks back to what becomes a second helping of Giovanni Gabrieli [I don't note much of significance about it - not to say there wasn't.]

Finally, it's the Brahms. I should mention now that - while I've obviously heard of Brahms - he is a composer whose works I have never familiarised myself with. The only reference I can think of is the one from Fawlty Towers, where Basil shouts to Sybil (with irony) that he's listening to 'Brahms' Third Racket'.

What do we have in store then, I wonder?

Well... it's gentle. A racket this is not. I'm not sure what to imagine in my head, or indeed if I'm supposed to be imagining anything. There is little in the way of melodic hooks, and I can't place it in a film or movie. I ask ChatGPT for a clue, and it tells me that he [Brahms] wrote this in the summer of 1877, when he was on holiday somewhere around the Austrian Alps. 

Okay. Now, at least, I've got an image to work with. And it fits!

As the piece ends I can hear a cacophonic blend of 'Bravo!' and 'More!' from the audience. I can't help but assent, even with my Mr. Bumble hat on.

Photo by me, from 20th July 2025.

'Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony'

'Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony'

Royal Albert Hall

The day at work has been rather standard. Had a friend of mine, Sean, who I record my own music with, over to my house for tea. We enjoyed a pizza - authentically stone-baked in my oven - and a pistachio tiramisu, both of which I procured from Aldi the other day. As a result of all this I start tonight's Prom at nine o'clock, via BBC Sounds.

The first piece is Lili Boulange's D’un matin de printemps, and it is a delight to listen to. It is like a glee fairytale, and I get a vision of flying through the skies of Neverland! [For disambiguation: I am talking about the fictional Neverland where one would find Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, as opposed to Michael Jackson's malignant child trap.]

Next up we have one of the two mainstays of tonight's programme: Shostakovich's Cello Concerto No. 1. Similar to the other Shostakovich works we have heard over the last weeks, there is reportedly a sociopolitical depth to the music. We are told that the ending is 'grotesque'. At first it makes me tired to hear this, because I don't think I can swallow another 'grotesque' this late in the season. Personally, though, it doesn't sound too bad to me? [maybe it's demanding to play?]. While the strings, I note, are 'melancholic,' I wouldn't go much further than that. It brings me back - yet again - to this wonderful debate about Shostakovich, and whether he was a genuine Stalin apologist, or rather a shrewd parodist. There is absolutely no doubt that he was a skilled composer, and yet - to my uneducated ear - the themes are muddled. So, once again, this pushes me towards the side of thought that he was one of music's great con artists. And if that's true, he is very much a man after my own heart.

Just before the encore performance, I think it is the conductor, Delyana Lazarova, who says a few words. She comes across very gracious, which goes a long way with me. She acknowledges the 'difficulty' of the piece just played [again, it didn't sound all that bad to me?!], and reassures us that there is someone coming along who can 'make it all better... Johann Sebastian Bach!' 

YES! I should have known it! I am so overjoyed in hearing this news that my eyes start to well up. This emotion is coming from my 'Proms fatigue' at this point - it's hard to describe it, but I am getting the sort of involuntary euphoria that tends to kick in after a long-haul flight across the world, when you haven't slept for the last twenty-four hours. We are presently treated with the opening prelude of Bach's 1st Cello suite (what else?!).

It takes me a while to catch on to the Rachmaninov, probably because I'm still reeling over the Bach surprise. I'm not sure which movement we have got to, but there are some chimes [was it the Glockenspiel?] that wake me up, and this is where the music grabs my attention. It's joyous. The string sections are just beautiful as the piece moves along.

Image: Pixabay.com

Avi Avital: Between Worlds

Avi Avital: Between Worlds

Royal Albert Hall

Having had my fill of concerts for one day, I toyed with the idea of leaving this Prom until tomorrow. After some indecision, I eventually bit the bullet and listened live.

This is a late-night Prom, commencing on BBC Radio 3 at 22:15. We have - according to https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/ebngfx - 'Avi Avital and his ensemble Between Worlds for a sonic tour of the countries that border the Black Sea'.

Opens up with a tribal chant, and all I can think of is that New Zealand rugby team [the All Blacks] who do that dance [haka] before a match. Not sure why the BBC keeps insisting on putting on these unsettling features before bedtime?

Anyway, the second piece of music starts and it is much nicer. I think this is where the mandolin comes out, and it sounds a little Irish to me - which is a good thing, because I adore Irish trad music. The mandolin is capable of such beautiful sounds, and I'm reminded of the time I saw Bill Bailey play the mandola (a close relative), while looking through YouTube once. [I'm too tired to pull out any Aker Bilk references].

Some more percussive music follows. Very nice and exotic.

I really enjoy the number just before eleven o'clock, which I note has a brilliantly unique style of weaving vocals.

Later there is some music featuring the clarinet, and I am getting a blurry flash of another famous piece of music, but I can't for the life of me remember how it goes... its a very famous clarinet opening, which eventually my brain does decode - so I'll know it if hear it. I ask the following question to ChatGPT:

"I'm listening to a clarinet piece and I'm thinking I'm in Paris. There's a really famous clarinet opening I'm thinking about, do you know the one I mean?"

ChatGPT replies:

"I think I know the one you mean! The most famous clarinet opening associated with Paris is almost certainly Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin (1924).

It begins with that unforgettable slow clarinet glissando, sliding upwards into the jazzy main theme. It’s iconic, and it often conjures images of big cities (Paris, New York, etc.), even though Gershwin was American."

I search for 'Rhapsody in Blue' on YouTube - YES, that's the one!! I can now bank that information for future reference and enjoyment.

As the show nears an end there is some male operatic-style singing. Don't ask me which register, but I am now getting the odd flash of the Go Compare man [Wynne Evans], for whom I have a long-standing and intense repulsion.

Good night!

Image: Pixabay.com

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Mozart and Tchaikovsky

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Mozart and Tchaikovsky
Royal Albert Hall

It is my second Prom of the day, thanks to being a day late with 'Vienna Philharmonic Plays Bruckner’s Ninth'. And there's even more bad news, because tonight there is also going to be another one of those 'late night' Proms at the Royal Albert Hall. This means that - like Sunday just gone - I am once again facing a day with no less than three Proms to listen to and consider.

My notes on Berg and  Bruckner from yesterday evening's Prom were not complimentary, but I am wondering if I may have had a different opinion on these pieces had I heard them on the first week of the Proms, as opposed to the last. Without a doubt, I am in need of resuscitation in music form. Mozart and Tchaikovsky are surely going to deliver on this?

Mozart's Symphony No. 38, has been nicknamed the 'Prague' symphony. Apparently the city adored his Marriage of Figaro, awarding it more success at the time than Vienna did. To date I have not visited Prague, save for this June just gone, when I was caught in traffic on the outskirts of the city, on the way to Pilsen with a couple of friends. This was where I was to first encounter the delight of the Pilsner Urquell brewery and its fresh tank beer. [Hoping to intersect the Czech capital sometime next year, or in the near future.]

It is not until about thirty minutes into the music that I (finally) get the instrumental flavours I am in such desperate need of. It's Mozart who, as I have already remarked, to me does tend to convey some tasteful pomp. It offers something of a jump start for me, which will now hopefully see me through to Saturday [the Last Night of the Proms].

Right now I am not capable of a running commentary on a nearly hour-long symphony like Tchaikovsky's number six, except to say that I recognise the style as his. It offers all the elegance of fine dining, and I am not left wanting a bag of chips on the way home.

Photo by me [Edinburgh city].

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Bruckner’s Ninth

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Bruckner’s Ninth

Royal Albert Hall

I am a day late in listening to this Prom. The live broadcast was 19:30 on Monday 8th September. However, at that time I was in Edinburgh on a work visit with a colleague, and we took some time to look at the city and get a decent evening meal. The last time I was in Edinburgh was way back in 2013 [went to see Hugh Laurie play some blues piano at the Edinburgh Playhouse]. Prior to then, I had visited twice before with my family. Once in August 2006, when we saw The Goodies: Still Alive on Stage at the Assembly Rooms as part of the Edinburgh (Fringe) Festival. And another time in 2009. Both in 2006 and 2009 we saw the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo, at the castle. I mention all this because I made a point of taking my Goodies T-shirt [not worn often in public but always a conversation starter] with me yesterday, and by chance I stepped back into the foyer of the Assembly Rooms where I bought said garment, just over nineteen years ago. Otherwise - saw the houses of James Clark Maxell and Robert Louis Stevenson, and ate heartily at the Hard Rock Cafe.

I am therefore back at home listening to this Prom on BBC Sounds, early evening of Tuesday 9th September. It is the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, which are branded as 'one of the world's great orchestras'. [How did I know that was going to be the case? Must be a cultural birthright to all things Viennese]. 

And speaking of Scotland, I do wonder if this first piece, Lulu Suite by Alban Berg, has any association with the energetic Glaswegian singer of the same forename? I am sorry to say that it does not, which is a shame. In reality, there does not seem to be a lot of 'energy' to the piece at all, and all dramatic motifs are drawn from some book of cliches. I wish not to insult Alban Berg, as I am not familiar with any of his other works or background, but God it's boring.

There is some chat in the interval about the 'curse of the ninth,' which I myself pondered upon during the Beethoven's Ninth Prom, a few weeks ago [at least I think it was a few weeks ago - it's all blending into one, now].

Maybe it's just the mood I'm in, but I am left similarly unenthralled by Bruckner's ninth. As the programme concludes, one pertinent question lingers within me: have I really sacrificed Coronation Street for this?

Grieg’s Piano Concerto

Grieg’s Piano Concerto

Royal Albert Hall

It's the final of today's three Proms, and the mental fatigue is cutting deep. I got through the two earlier Proms on BBC Sounds a few hours behind their live broadcasts, and I had just eight minutes to spare before switching to Radio 3 for this live broadcast from the Royal Albert Hall, starting at the usual 19:30 hours.

It's Petroc [Terlawny] presenting tonight, so I know I'm in safe hands. But wait a second, what is this interference? It sounds like a hall of mirrors, where the audio is repeating itself into infinity. Is it my radio signal? I turn it off and back on again, and when I return there is a a calm announcement saying something like 'we apologise for the disruption and here is some nice Bach music to soothe you.' Don't tell me it's a repeat of the MSO protests the other week? Seems like it was just a blip in the radio broadcast, and we are soon back on track, just in time for the music to start.

We begin this evening with Ruth Gipps's Death on the Pale Horse. It’s bleak to begin with, but, with a title like that, it’s to be expected. The imagery is on point, without doubt.

Next we have Lukas Sternath playing Grieg's Piano Concerto. In my most predictable quip of the season, I will declare that he manages to play all the right notes, and in all the right places. As I have already alluded to, Grieg is one of my favourites. This piano concerto offers some dramatic bromides which, while arguably not matching the intensity of the likes of Tchaikovsky's No.1, has a flavour all of its own. It's the unmistakable flavour of Grieg, and that sits on my palette like Dairy Milk.

After the interval it is The Beatitudes by Arthur Bliss. For starters, it is like we're lost in a vast forest. The weather ain't too great, either. Just had a look at the BBC Website, which says it is 'a cantata composed for the reopening in 1962 of Coventry Cathedral – part Passion, part howl of human loss, part musical prayer for a ‘troubled world’. I did already recount my school trip to Coventry cathedral in one of my earlier blogs [can't remember which one!], so I won't bother regurgitating it here. 

Photo: Pixabay.com

Angélique Kidjo: African Symphony (Bradford)

Angélique Kidjo: African Symphony

St George's Hall, Bradford

It's the second out of three Proms today. I should be cleaning my house up, but it will have to wait otherwise I am going to fall behind with the Proms and I won't be able to catch up again. [Only days left now until I get my regular routine back - keep going!]

This afternoon's Prom comes from St George's Hall in Bradford. I have never known the acquaintance of this city, and so it is news to me that there is another St George's Hall, separate to the one that so grandly defines the city of Liverpool. 

What does a middle-class white man from the Wirral know about African music? Not a lot to be honest, and it is difficult to provide commentary without blushing and/or coming across as a hollow virtue-signaller.

The African Symphony is completely unlike any other symphony I have yet heard from a European orchestra. The instrumentation is indeed 'exotic' by comparison, but here's the thing: it's a welcome break. The music is full of joy, and with a persistent beat. It's celebratory. The whole show is happy, with a party atmosphere. Angélique Kidjo shares my never-been-to-Bradford status (until today for her, of course), and she vows to come back to visit at leisure. It's a place I know very little about, so I must also add it to my list.

We are introduced to Corinne Bailey Rae, and the music up-notches! There is some beautiful fingerpicked acoustic guitar - not sure if that is her playing?!

By saying that there is a movement that reminds me of Bamboléo by The Gypsy Kings, I am no doubt cross-linking two disciplines of music in error - but that's what it sounds like.

The momentum does not drop - it's upbeat throughout, and if anything only crescendos as the programme goes on. Audience participation begins, probably involuntarily - who could not be moved to dance by this incredible music?!

The presenter Linton Stephens calls it a 'roof raising performance,' and I couldn't have put it better myself.

Image: Pixabay.com

Vaughan Williams’s ‘A London Symphony’

Vaughan Williams’s ‘A London Symphony’

Royal Albert Hall

It's Sunday morning, and this is the first of three Proms today. Christ almighty, I thought Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, or does that not apply to the wicked? I start playing the Prom in the afternoon on BBC Sounds, while I am driving at a snail's pace on a heavily-congested M56. I need to pop into the office to collect my laptop and shoes, as I will be training it up to Edinburgh tomorrow to present at a hospital there.

And this morning, too, we are on our travels. Musically speaking, that is. We are going to Rome, Paris, and London.

I have never been to Rome [nor Italy at all - but, as I think I mentioned earlier in the run, it is high on the list]. This Pines of Rome by Ottorino Respighi opens up and it is pure magic. It's bright. Goes more relaxing/peaceful. A tasty piece.

For any fellow Charles Dickens fans, the Darius Milhaud's Le boeuf sur le toit [The Ox on the Roof], is full of jollity - my own mind pictures old Fezziwig's works Christmas party from A Christmas Carol.

After the interval we have the main attraction, which is Ralph Vaughan Williams's Symphony No. 2, AKA 'A London Symphony'. [I note it's //RAFE// Williams, as opposed to Rallf].

What do I think of this, then? At first I sense the cliched dark opening,  played with slow, low strings. Must be a winter's night in the capital. So he knows the city's dark side. We then get some tasteful grandeur, we must be passing through the terraces of gentry. I am starting to get the feeling that I am sitting in a Hackney on a tour of the city. 

    It goes gentle. Must be springtime in one of the royal parks. I’ll pick Hyde Park as it’s my favourite, and also because it’s in the vicinity of the Royal Albert Hall – and we couldn’t be anywhere better than that.

    I later get the sense that we are peering over a spectacular view of the city, seeing the outline of its many buildings and areas - a million stories playing out in front of us. I will bet our vantage point is either from Greenwich Park, or that view one gets at the top of the hill at Hampstead Heath.

    There's a subtle clock chime... one we ALL know. Not sure how to write it, but it goes like this: Dom-dom-dom-dom....dom-dom-dom-dom. Big Ben?

To summarise: seldom, if ever, have I been so on board with what the composer was trying to do. Maybe it's because I've roamed the streets of London so much in my adult life, making me aware of all its glories and foibles. I don't know what it is, but it's a triumph in music. I will be listening to this symphony once again, in isolation, at my earliest opportunity.

Image created with ChatGPT.