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.

Golda Schultz Sings Gershwin and Bernstein

Golda Schultz Sings Gershwin and Bernstein
Royal Albert Hall

It's Saturday night, and I'm half cut. Had a pint and a half of Guniness at the Irby Club with my Dad and brother, and washing it down with my new friend, the Ayinger dunkel, a bottle of which I purchased at the Crafty Tavern earlier this evening. And I can't enjoy a dark ale without a bag of Maltesers and a Wispa. 

Anyone expecting a cerebral analysis of this evening's offerings at the Royal Albert Hall have come to the wrong place. But that won't stop me giving it a go. Incidentally, I am listening to this on BBC Sounds, about an hour behind the live broadcast on BBC Radio 3.

Tonight it is the Chamber Orchestra of Europe, and they will be playing a veritable selection of numbers. Joining them for a couple is Golda Schultz, a soprano singer. 

The first piece played is Franz Schreker's Chamber Symphony. It does not put a foot wrong.

Next we have 'By Strauss' - a composition by George Gershwin [you've no idea how long it took to get my head round that one]. This is where Golda Schultz comes in, and I'm taken aback by her vocals. I'm not actually sure what my ear was expecting from a 'soprano,' but I don't think it was quite this. It's got a Julie Andrews resonance to it, which is surely something to celebrate. And there's something near the end that reminds me of  Oom-Pah-Pah from the 1960 musical, Oliver! 

To tell you the truth, these resonate vocals are casting me back to the Viennese Waltzes Prom, earlier in the season. That is not a bad thing!

There's an edition Summertime from the opera Porgy and Bess by George Gershwin. Good grief, was that that Gershwin?! Thought it was Lana Del Ray? [Joking aside, Lana has done a pleasurable variation of this]. 

After the interval I pick up on Somewhere from West Side Story - watched that a couple of Christmases ago. 

Stravinsky's Firebird is neither here nor there.

Photo by me, 20th July 2025,

Chineke! plays Shostakovich

Chineke! plays Shostakovich
Royal Albert Hall

There has been a reprise of the clement weather this Friday, after a couple of days of sketchy showers. Cycled in to work again, and managed a 5k run afterwards. Not bad!

Tonight at the BBC Proms we have the Chineke! orchestra, which is an orchestra of all ethnically diverse musicians. A good concept, one which I'm all for. In Britain, we have made great strides in the last few years, in the recognition that we have not done enough to champion diversity, particularly in the notoriously exclusive realm of classical music. Though let us not kid ourselves into thinking that our job here is done and we now rest on our laurels. To once again give my tuppence to the topic of classical music and inclusivity: have a flick through your programme for this evening's entertainment and it will give the game away. I'll wager my hundred-grand Steinway that the advertising features will comprise preparatory and boarding schools, cruise holidays, and retirement flats on the King's Road going for two mill. I cower to wonder who the target audience for these ads is, but it's nobody I know. There's plenty of money in Formula 1 and premier league football, but their sponsors are limited to the likes of Burger King and Carlsberg.

In other news, I have now (provisionally) ordered my ticket to the Last Night of the Proms! Not over the moon about resorting to ViaGoGo for a profiteering £211, but I snatched the best resale price I've seen so far. There's no hope for me in bagging a ticket on the day, because I'll be sitting on a bus when the Promming tickets go on sale (assuming they do that for the Last Night?), with only a temperamental phone signal to rely on. Similarly, I don't mind losing the money if I save myself the embarrassment of roaming outside the hall begging anyone who'll lend a sympathetic ear to me:

    'But I've done this thing where I listened to every Prom and blogged about it!'

    'A likely story... Officer, can you help us over here please?!'

    So a re-sale ticket it is - just hope for no nasty surprises when I arrive at the Royal Albert Hall on the night🤞

I should probably get onto the music, shouldn't I?

The first piece is by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor. Now, I have heard of this chap before. I *think* it was from watching Lenny Henry's BBC documentary on Black classical music [Black Classical Music: The Forgotten History] a couple of years ago. I'm sure I recorded it on DVD when it was on - must root that out again sometime soon. This piece, The Bamboula, has something regal about it. Don't misunderstand me, it's not 'ceremonial' as such, but... sterling? Really, really like this. Absolutely terrific!

The second piece is Fanfare for Uncommon Times by Valerie Coleman. This one is much more modern, having been composed during the covid lockdowns. The woodwind and strings have left the stage, we are told, with just the brass and percussion left on - so that doesn't bode well. But it's not too bad, you know. As I'm listening I'm trying to think of where I was first introduced to this instrumental style. It comes to me - Hetty Wainthropp Investigates!

Next up it is Visions of Cahokia by James Lee III. Not so keen on this one when it opens, but it gets better. Much better! Builds up brilliantly, and there's a light suspense to it in my mind, even if it wasn't  the composer's intention.

After the interval it is the Shostakovich which, once again, is a rather unpleasant listen. But that is not to say the music itself is inherently unpleasant. The Radio 3 presenter sums it up as 'Forty-eight minutes of terror, two minutes of triumph.' I am completely on board with this assessment, even clocking when the triumphant part kicks in at the end!

I had already become a casual fan of Shostakovich over the last few years, via the ditties that get played on Classic FM. This BBC Proms run has snagged my curiosity of him, and I'm keen to learn more. Alexander Armstrong always sounds giddy when he announces a 'Shostakovich' [I can hear his voice now], and I am beginning to understand why.

Classic Thriller Soundtracks

Classic Thriller Soundtracks
Royal Albert Hall

A couple of times during this Proms run I have commented on music taking my mind to a Hitchcock movie. I suppose it's a reference most people understand, so much so that it's almost exempt from further explanation. But what of Bernard Hermann, who composed the scores so many of Hitchcock's famous outings? Tonight's Prom is largely a tribute to him, with a conscious selection of other famous soundtracks associated with the big screen. 

A few of the films I have seen or heard of, but many I have not. Not necessarily a bad thing. This is giving me chance to reimagine some of my favourite cinematic scores, and also offering an opportunity to hear some new music, detached from my association/bias from what is already familiar to me.

North by Northwest - never seen it, but I know the title. The music sounds stereotypically Hitchcock.

Psycho - seen it to death. Shouldn't waste too much time talking about this, except to say that the performance was spot on, to the point where it could have been a studio-recorded CD I had just played.

Vertigo - saw it once, years ago. Loved it. Overdue a rewatch, I think. Fantastic music - it sways to and fro, or is it left and right? Either way, it's good.

Deception - never heard of it, but looking it up now I see it's Bette Davis, so this is surely to be added to my watchlist. As a matter of interest, I had a friend [he died in December just gone] who met Bette Davis in Southport in the 1970's.

Laura - never heard of it. It's another film noir that looks enticing. Great vocalist who bears aural resemblance to Frank Sinatra.

Ironside - my Nan used to watch it. I never have. It's got a smooth, steady groove. Falls just short of exciting - a sound very typical of American TV serials of the time. Like Shaft but minus the incessance. Gets jazzy as it goes on.

In The Heat of The Night - never seen it, but I note it's on iPlayer currently. The music starts extravagantly, and for a millisecond I think we're in for a rendition of The Stripper by David Rose. Thankfully I'm wrong about that, but it's not quite what I thought it was going to be. Has an almost blues-gospel-jazz feel, and apparently the original singer was Ray Charles. [Big fan of Ray, and I forgot to blog a few weeks back that - when I was in London for the first weekend of the Proms - I picked up an impressive Ray Charles 'Complete Atlantic Recordings' boxset for £25 from Reckless Records on Berwick Street. 'Light marks, box slightly worn,' but who cares at that price? Reckless Rec's has become a semi-regular check in when I'm down the Big Smoke. A fair few times over the last, say, ten years, I have gotten similar bargains on box sets, typically to be found on display in their glass cabinets. Not every time, but once in a while.] This piece of music at the RAH is glorious. Even if watching In the Heat of the Night on iPlayer turns out to be a flop, it'll be worth it for the music alone.

Twisted Nerve - never heard of it. Largely a melodic whistle. Nice enough, but grates after so long.

Taxi Driver - saw it once, years ago. Iconic. 'You talkin' to me?' The saxophone is driving the gentle sleaze. I can well picture Robert De Niro roaming about the streets of New York, as liquorish-all-sorts of scenes play out in the background as he passes by.

Shaft - never seen it but I know the music well! Who could mistake that muted, funky wah-wah guitar work? The beat carries it all: excitement, sleaze, farce, and glamour.

The Italian Job - never seen it but aware of the 'self-preservation society' jingle and the 'bloody doors off' stuff. It's been on the watchlist for a long time. This music takes me by surprise, and makes me wonder if the film has a hidden depth? Must find out one day!

Bullitt - never heard of it! Nor have I ever watched any films with Steve McQueen. Just never got round to it. At the RAH tonight this music blends back into an Italian Job reprise, and we get the obligatory 'self-preservation society' runaround.

You'll have to imagine me quoting a Michael Caine line as I sign off, but before I do we get an encore:

Jaws - watched it a couple of times. Once was in high school during a Media Studies lesson. Been a while since I've watched it but, of course, I know the score! When it's John Williams, you know it'll be a cut above.

St Vincent

St Vincent
Royal Albert Hall

Another decidedly early-autumn day. Most of the daylight has disappeared around eight o'clock, in what has been, and continues to be, a gradual diminuendo from the First Night of the Proms.

Tonight is September 3rd, and we have St Vincent, alias of Anne Erin Clark, at the Royal Albert Hall. 'Who is St Vincent?' I ask myself. Well, she is a six-times Grammy award winning musician, who Rolling Stone have ranked as one of the greatest guitar players of all time. That's some introduction, and it doesn't stop there. We also get the 'one of the most important vocalists of the twenty-first century.' Quite the build up, but does she live up to the hype? 

In a word, no. Not for me, anyway. I do try my best but, by and large, it's not my cup of tea. I do howl, though, at the thought of the social awkwardness that would exist between St Vincent and what one might call your traditional, 'St George' promenader 🤣

My first thoughts are of Niamh Connolly, who was the Sinead O'Connor parody character in that episode of Father Ted. [I have no doubt that St Vincent is a completely different animal to Sinead O'Connor, but it's her nonchalant tone in her interview that is taking me here.] As for the Rolling Stone list of greatest guitar players... that's been going for years, and it changes nearly as often as I change my underpants. [which is to say daily.]

The music in general I would describe as semi-melodic, with a purposeful absence of hooks, and with unconventional structures. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy some of the music as it plays out. There's a song called Smoking Section, and the part where she repeats the words 'It's Not The End' sounds really good with the orchestra backing.

BBC Radio 3 apologies for the use of the word 'motherfucker' during the live broadcast of New York. 

The Nowhere Inn utilises a similar motif of those repeating words, and it keeps asking the question 'where are you, where are you, where are you...?' To which my mind suddenly conjures Roger Daltrey's gravelly, cockney voice - the one that famously sung 'who the fuck are you?'

Adès Conducts the BBC SO

Thomas Adès Conducts the BBC Symphony Orchestra
Royal Albert Hall

Image: https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/e38rn3

Cycled into work again today, after my schedule forced me away from it last week. Got the journey down to about fifteen minutes now, or maybe just over. I'm very fortunate because the route I take avoids all roads; there's a stretch along the Bridgewater canal, then the rest is foot/cycle paths, an underpass, and one leafy through-route that has long since been closed to traffic. Could not be more ideal.

The Prom tonight is all about nature, we're told. 'Great!' I think, 'that means it'll be a nice relaxing one. Might even listen to this in the living room for a change.'

The first piece is Sibelius's The Swan of Tuonela, and I really like it. While it could be classed as relaxing, it's not especially peaceful. There's like a rich, dark-chocolate undercurrent. Very smooth! The strings are gentle, but unsettling - bleak. Like a rainy day. Then a woodwind instrument joins in - it sounds like an oboe? [My friend ChatGPT informs me that it's actually a cor anglais AKA English horn. Wikipedia confirms that this instrument 'is a double-reed woodwind instrument in the oboe family' - I'm getting good at this!].

Next up is something called Breathing Forests by Gabriella Smith. Clear from the offset that this is going to be one of those 'abstract' ones. This ain't a forest you're going to tread after dark, and I'm now glad I didn't move proceedings into the living room. Starts off with chaotic organ in the high octaves. The repeating loops sound like Philip Glass on ecstasy, and there's a moment later on that puts me in mind of Bach's Toccata and Fugue played at 10x speed. We were sold this work with one word: Organic! But while organic can denote a Timotei shampoo commercial, it can also mean biting into an apple and discovering a maze of wormholes. If this music is a politico-artistic statement it works, of that I am sure. Would I place it in the CD tray of my HiFi and listen to it for pleasure? Absolutely not.

Before I talk about the music of the second half, I might add as a matter of interest that I have my own little history with Shakespeare's The Tempest. This was the play I did for A-level English Lit, and our sixth form class went out to see a production of it at the Liverpool Playhouse. I think was 2006? [just had a look at the Everyman/Playhouse website https://everymanplayhouse.com/event/the-tempest/, and it seems the run was Fri 30 Sep – Sat 22 Oct 2005 - makes sense now I think about it! How was that twenty years ago for God's sake?!]. That production has stuck in my memory as a meta tragicomedy. During the interval, the safety curtain came down in the theatre as one would expect. Only trouble was, it wouldn't go back up. We the audience were sent home with a flea in our ear and the promise of a refund. It was not until 2022 that I finally saw the play in its entirety, courtesy of local theatrical company The Hillbark Players, who appear, typically biennially, in the grounds of Royden Park during summer months. My next ambition is to see The Tempest performed at the Minack theatre in Porthcurno.

On to the music, and the second half starts with Five Spells from The Tempest by Thomas Adès, who is also conducting. The opening does not hang around, and we're taken straight into the thick of the action without so much as an introduction. It's stormy waters, all right. Does do an effective job of portraying the themes of The Tempest, though. Nice piece.

And the Sibelius doesn't go wrong. At one point I'm transported to that spinning shed on the Wizard of Oz, and for that evocation alone he earns his stripes with me.

Image created with ChatGPT

Shostakovich’s ‘Lady Macbeth’

Shostakovich’s ‘Lady Macbeth’

Royal Albert Hall

It's Monday, and I'm even more tired than usual. Managed about three hours sleep last night, so after work today I'm not in the mood to do much bar laze about in the house. I catch another hour or so of sleep, and and head back downstairs to arrange some food for myself. Picked up a few nice meals-for-one at the Cook shop in Heswall yesterday, so there's not much in the way of cooking to be done - I can allow the microwave to take the strain. The day overall has been overcast, and today for the first time I've sensed a subtle flavour of autumn, as opposed to late-summer (and not just because it's September 1st). Not too long now before I'm sitting here with a hoodie on.

I turn on the kitchen radio just a few minutes shy of 19:30. and it's not until a minute or two after this time that I realise I'm late to tonight's Prom at the Royal Albert Hall - it started at 18:30! It's the kind of sinking heart attack you face when you realise you've overslept and are going to be rolling into the office an hour late with your shirt flapping out. Even ten years ago, such sloppy punctuality might have put the kibosh on my all-Proms ambition. Fortunately though, we now live in an age that allows us to restart the show from the top, even in real-time when it is still going out live. So it is that I instruct BBC Sounds to take me back an hour, and it duly saves the day.

Tonight we have Shostakovich’s The Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. Now, I am aware of the Shakespearean Lady Macbeth and, as I recall, she was a bit of a shit. So why would someone of Shostakovich's calibre be composing for her? I ask ChatGPT for some help, and it lets me know that this isn't so much Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, but rather it's someone called Katerina, who is monikered as such (I think in a display of irony) on the author's part. It's all from a novella by Nikolai Leskov. While Katerina commits adulterous and murderous crimes and the like, the point being made is that it is the repressive society surrounding her that has ultimately pushed her to it. This is what Stalin didn't like about Shostakovich's Lady Mac, and my mind now is starting to think back to what I dubbed 'Shostakovich on trial' at the Proms, just a few weekends ago, when we heard his fifth symphony by heart. Overall, the impression I'm getting from Shostakovich is that he is capable of both jollity and subtlety, and he does a sterling job of both. Basically, he does what he wants. And this (for now, anyway), cements my leaning towards the idea that his fifth symphony was a clever hoax.

Now I will move on to my thoughts on the performance itself. It's being sung in English, and this gets me to thinking. Bland sentences like "I came to ask you for a book" suddenly don't sound so exotic. There's something that deceives one into feeling more cultured and sophisticated when listening to opera in a language unintelligible. Fortunate, then, that all the dramatic vibratos make sure I still don't understand what's going on. [Prommers at the hall have surtitles to help them, I gather].

A few times I hear derisory 'ha!, ha!, ha!'s', in a sharp staccato fashion. I can't stop my mind travelling to The Laughing Policeman by Charles Penrose. At first I think it's yet another case of me wandering to inappropriate elements; but, in way, it couldn't be more appropriate. 

The second half starts - is this the wedding of Katerina and Sergey? That it sounds like a grotesque circus fanfare could be another confirmation of the Shostakovich witticism I mused on earlier.

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.