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!

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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.

    

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.

Benjamin Grosvenor Plays Ravel

Benjamin Grosvenor Plays Ravel
Royal Albert Hall

Work done. 10k Run, done! Quick bath to soothe the aching limbs, and then it's across to the Royal Albert Hall, via Radio 3, for tonight's Prom.

It opens really well with Sofia Gubaidulina's Revue Music for Symphony Orchestra and Jazz Band. This first piece is rhythmic; nay, it's groovy! [For the record: I've noted down the word 'groovy' before the presenter uses it when the music finishes. It is reassuring to know we are on the same wavelength, though.] We've got guitar, short voice excerpts with a echo/delay effect, and the percussion is all over the place in a good way. It reminds me of the band Yello, and I'm a fan of their sound. It does transition into something a bit different towards the end. Darker, more erratic. Not sure I like it, but thankfully that bit doesn't last too long. Overall, a smashing opener!

Next up it's Ravel, whom we've heard from several times already during this run of concerts. Not that I'm complaining: I've grown to really admire the man and his music over the last four weeks. The main 'riff' (a five-note repeated pattern) is one I think I'm familiar with. There's something longing about it all. The piano is subtle, and threads throughout. Sounds great. 

The encore to the first half is a rocking piano number, showing off the impressive virtuosity of Benjamin Grosvenor (a child prodigy, we're told), who perhaps wasn't fully enabled by the Ravel earlier.

I'm really in the mood for a pizza, but I can't be arsed with the effort, and in any case I don't have one in. I'm not losing twenty pounds for a takeaway, so I settle with putting some frozen french fries in the air fryer, and drown them with Peri Peri salt. And a bit of bread and butter again.

The conversation during the interval is very refined and the chap - Philip I think his name was -obviously knows his stuff. But he isn't self-insistent with it, and I admire that muchly. [I also like that he pronounces 'portrait' the way I do... //Port-Rate//. Nothing shouts hollow grandeur more than someone who favours Port-Rut.]

The second half is Shostakovich with Babi Yar, which is a awareness piece, of the persecution of Soviet Jews during the Second World War. I thought I might resonate with this one, in a manner of speaking, having visited Auschwitz just two months ago from time of writing. And Shostakovich is actually a composer I have gotten into over the last few years, mostly via Classic FM which is my usual go-to for classical music (sorry Radio 3!).

This is a choral-led work, and the male voices are disturbing; reaching the kind of notes our old deputy head at high school would have used when instilling fear into us boys. The whole thing is pretty horrific from start to finish to be honest. But I suppose that's the point, isn't it.

I pour myself a Tamnavulin single malt and take it neat.

Boléro and The Rite of Spring

Boléro and The Rite of Spring
Royal Albert Hall

It's back to something of a regular proms routine for me, now catching my breath after being in London all of the weekend just passed.

Edgard Varèse's Intégrales begins, and I'm afraid I'm getting flashbacks to the Boulez and Berio programme. It crackles to start with, but I'm not sure if it's partly a weak signal strength on the radio. Perhaps not, if the screeching is anything to go by. Sounds like a clown twisting balloons, in the vain hope of creating a poodle.

The cello concerto (Anna Thorvaldsdottir's Before we fall) opens boldly, and it's quite frightening actually. Definitely fit for a thriller/horror movie. It's enjoyable, even though it's not enjoyable, if that makes sense? Call it 'tectonic masses' if you will, but I would personally liken it to chewing on a sour, sugar-coated Haribo.

In a highly unusual move, I make myself a hot chocolate. 

Next up it's Ravel's Bolero. Now we're talking! Most famously associated with Torvill and Dean, it's a classic, gentle piece. Earlier in the season I compared Rachmaninov to Monet, and this is giving me similar feels.

During the interval I begin to type this up, so I am not taking in all of the chat. However, just as the interval wraps up I catch the announcer say it's a 'savagely beautiful prom this evening', and I couldn't have put it better myself.

After the interval it's Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring. Opens up calmly, puts me in mind of Grieg's Peer Gynt. Unexpectedly, it starts to build up with some Jaws-like hits on the stings. It keeps fluctuation between being more dramatic at times, then falling back into more calm, bird-tweet caves. Judging by the timpani hits, Stravinsky must have had a splitting headache when he wrote some of this.

Mischief Night

The Royal Albert Hall

 Thursday night is mischief night at the BBC proms, it seems. Once again I step into South Kensington through my kitchen radio as I prepare my evening’s repast. Not one to waste ingredients, it is a salad again tonight featuring beetroot, potato, Stilton, and Linda McCartney sausages.

Tonight it’s the BBC symphony orchestra. We start off with Stravinsky, and the Song of the Nightingale. My mind is immediately taken to Hitchcock’s film The Birds. Not for the first time this season have I envisaged Hitchcock (doubt it’ll be the last). The piece itself is apparently based on a fable featuring a Chinese emperor and a small bird. I try to keep this story in mind as I listen, and I notice at times that it does settle into a benign, gentle birdsong feel, as well as more chaotic turns.

Next it’s Mendelssohn’s violin concerto in E minor. Can’t think of much, except to say that it is beautifully played, and note perfect. A fine piece, and the audience clearly agree with me judging by the ovationary applause. There is a brief encore of, I think, Por Una Cabeza - which always makes me think of the film True Lies.

During the interval I am getting my bag and work clothes laid out for tomorrow morning, and I pick out some words about toilet humour…defecation, turds, farting etc. Didn’t quite pick up on where it fits, but I think it’s got something to do with Till Eulenspiegel, whom we’ll hear via Strauss shortly.

Next it’s a European premiere of Antony Davis’s Tales (Tails) of the Signifying Monkey. I thought this may have been a cheeky farce, but instead comes across rather sneaky and sinister. An interesting, gorgeous interweaving of notes - very reflective of the theme.

Finally it’s a chaotic piece by Strauss. I note the percussion sounds like trampoline boings at one point, and it moves around some grand fanfares. I’ve just looked up Till Eulenspiegel, and yes it was him they were talking about out in the interval. According to Wikipedia he was a fabled practical joker, and his surname possibly interpreted via German folklore as ‘wipe arse’.

Shostakovich, Ravel, and Walton

I had to watch this broadcast in a hybrid manner: when it began at 8pm I still had another hour left of my return coach journey to Liverpool. Fortunately I have a generous data plan on my phone, so watching live on my tablet was not a problem, as long as the signal held up on the motorway. Luckily it did, so I was able to watch the first hour live. I caught up with the rest on iplayer when I

got home.

Tonight’s prom opened up with what I’d call a ‘jolly romp’ of Shostakovich. I have no idea if proper music aficionados would share my interpretation, but that’s what it was to my ear. Very pleasant indeed, and I’ve always paused to listen to this suite when it gets played on the radio.

Next up was the inspirational Nicholas McCarthy, playing Ravel’s piano concerto for left hand. I was glad to learn of the history of the piece, having being composed by Ravel specifically for pianist Paul Wittgenstein, who had lost his right arm during the First World War. 

It was great to hear McCarthy’s enthusiasm for opening up classical music to a broader audience, which he spoke of during his interview after the performances.

The Bournemouth symphony orchestra blasted out the show with William Walton’s epic and energetic symphony no. 1.

I only wished I could have still been in London to have witnessed this prom live. Alas, my Monday is calling!