This summer, I have decided to "attend" (physically and virtually) every one of the BBC Proms. Whether I am at the Royal Albert Hall in person, watching on TV, or tuning in on the radio. I will post a micro blog of every performance.
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.
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 theHall 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.
In a surprising contrast to last night, it is not I, but the proceedings at the Royal Albert Hall, that are running late. Arrivals from Radio 3 are played some pleasant time fillers until they're ready to take us in.
First up it's Bent Sørensen's Evening Land. Starts with tranquil stings, though they're struggling to get off the ground. It's quite eerie to tell you the truth. Must have been a tumultuous night that Sørensen is describing.
Next up it's Anna Clyne's The Years, and there's absolutely a feel of 'As Time Goes By', as the choral work sets in. "Where does the bloody time go?" is a question I oft ask myself. A bit later, the instrumentation offers up some really sharp twists and - fittingly for tonight - I get a flash of one of my favourite TV programmes, namely Inside No. 9. [Side note: looks like there's a good article about 'The Curse of the Ninth' in my BBC Proms guide - must have a proper read of that when I get chance].
As part of my job, I call hospitals on the telephone on a daily basis. One particular hospital has set a permanent 'all our users are currently busy' message on their main line, and it plays you a nice piece of classical music while you wait. I was hanging on this line one day, about a year or two ago now, and I really liked the music. But I didn't know what it was, and needed to find out. So imagine, if you will, the time when I put my work phone on loud-speaker, and opened up the Sound Hound app on my personal phone, allowing it to take a listen to the weak and distorted tune on the other line. After a few failed attempts it finally caught the hook - it identified the music as Beethoven's Ninth, and such was my introduction to this extraordinary work. [Incidentally, the excerpt I heard on the phone was the opening of the second movement.]
I'd be here all night trying to drag out the right words to describe this 60+ minute symphony, so I'll leave on this final reflection:
During the interval, Anna Clyne is asked why she thinks Beethoven is still THE composer, even after all this time? I can't remember what she said now [I'm sure it was a good answer], but my own opinion on the matter boils down to this simple concept: his work ebbs and flows with almost the same fluidity as mother nature.
