András Schiff Plays Bach

András Schiff Plays Bach
Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

Beethoven’s Ninth

Beethoven’s Ninth
Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

Image created with ChatGPT.

Dvořák’s ‘New World’ Symphony (Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra)

 Dvořák’s ‘New World’ Symphony (Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra)

Tonight is something of a spiritual homecoming for me, as the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra  take to the stage of the Royal Albert Hall. The Liverpool Philharmonic is 'my local'. Indeed, I once went out on a date with a fine young lady from this troupe around Christmas 2021. Alas, we parted ways amicably but with no second date to arrange. I wonder if she is on duty at the Albert Hall this evening? I notice on the BBC website that this prom is part of 'Proms on TV', so maybe I'll find out upon broadcast.

The music kicks off with gusto. It's a modern piece - a European premiere, no less - called An American Port of Call. It's a bit chaotic, but in a controlled manner, if that makes sense? My mind imagines constellations of stars. We're teased with the clarinet to wonderful effect.

The second piece, Blue Cathedral, is a bit sadder. I'm getting images of walking down a rainy street, alongside a set of Victorian-style street lamps.

The Concierto de otoño is a quirky number, taking us on a journey, I believe, via four trumpets.

I don't catch the name of the next performance (is it an extension of the previous?), but its another trumpet-heavy piece, and it gets me thinking of Miles Davis. Not for the first time this season has my mind travelled here.

Image: Pixabay.com

There are some discussions in the interval about Liverpool's relationship with America. The slave trade is, inevitably and importantly, mentioned. What hooks my interest most, is the discussion about the Cunard line and the so-called 'Cunard Yanks', whom I had never heard of before. These were young men working on the Cunard line, bringing back American music and fashion to Liverpool during the 1940's - ultimately influencing the Merseysound including The Beatles. Must try to learn more about this phenomenon when I get chance. 

Antonín Dvořák's Symphony No. 9 in E minor, ‘From the New World’, starts off quite sombre. But then the main 'riff' kicks in and I know what's coming. Something epic, that's for sure. The second moment hits and now I remember the hovis advert that was joked about during the interval. It makes me smile, but there’s also a longing sadness about the music when listening out of this context.

The third movement opens with what sounds like an echo of Beethoven’s 9th (ChatGPT confirms I am not the only one who has noticed this!). I recognise other parts of the tune as well: was it ever used as part of a Star Wars movie or video game, I wonder? (ChatGPT confirms my ear is correct again! Apparently John Williams' Duel of the Fates from Star Wars: The Phantom Menace has been noted in the past as bearing resemblance to this third movement of Dvořák's! - I must be becoming a bit of a classical music aficionado all of a sudden!)

It's been the best prom for days. And it is confirmed that this evening has been filmed, and that there is going to be a quick turnaround on this one. It will be on BBC Four tomorrow! I will come back to watch this as soon as I'm able.

Beethoven and Bartók from Budapest

"Beethoven and Bartók from Budapest
Royal Albert Hall

Iván Fischer and the Budapest Festival Orchestra bring Hungary’s greatest opera, Duke Bluebeard’s Castle, to the Royal Albert Hall, heard alongside Beethoven’s ebullient Symphony No. 7"

It's a straight, no-nonsense start to tonight's prom. One piece of music - a Beethoven symphony (namely No. 7 in A major) - starts gently, with a feeling of strolling through a sun-kissed meadow. Flows like any natural water feature would do. Yes, it is very pleasant on the ear from start to finish - Beethoven is a mainstream composer for good reason. It works up to a steady gallop, and finishes with aplomb. Very much looking forward to hearing his 9th, later in the season.

Image: Pixabay.com

Image: Pixabay.com

During the interval I do the dishes (as standard), and during the second half I am preparing my meal plan for next week. I need to do this earlier than normal, because I won't be here at the weekend. I will, of course, be heading down to the Royal Albert Hall for my next installment of in-person promming!

The second half, Duke Bluebeard’s Castle by Béla Bartók, opens with a passage read in Hungarian. We have to imagine the castle and the sort of cold, leaking, tower. At one point there is a light spell of laughter from the audience, but I'm clueless as to what they found amusing. Then the woodwind main body of the music interjects and we're off and running. There's a story to be told, and I try my best to conjure the scenes in my imagination. No doubt it is a good story!

Great British Classics

 Great British Classics at the Royal Albert Hall

Tonight is, for me, the perfect antidote to all the Mahler, which I struggle with (though I understand I am in the minority). It's Great British Classics this evening, and the title suggests it all - big, brash, pomp. Just what this prommer ordered. 

The first piece [William Walton's Coronation March] is very famous and I recognise it instantly. I didn't know up until this point the history of the piece, which was written for the ill-fated coronation of Edward VIII, who famously abdicated for the purpose of getting his leg over Wallis Simpson. The music was then used to its full effect at the coronation of George VI and Elizabeth. It certainly feels regal, and that of course aligns with the overall feel of the Proms as an institution.

The second offering of the evening is Ralph Vaughn Williams' The Lark Ascending, and it is beautiful music, completely lending itself to the intended imagery. Choral works follow up to complete the first half.

At this juncture I will mention that it was 'Burrito night' for myself. The dishes, while there was a few, did not present a major challenge.

The second half seems to travel between the feeling of Christmas carols, to getting lost in a magical Narnia forest. Choral sounds somewhere between Bach and Walt Disney. Not at all unpleasant.

Elgar's Enigma is everything the label claims.

Mahler’s Resurrection

 Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony

I was at home with my parents on Saturday night - we had a night of Fawlty Towers on DVD - so I am therefore listening to Mahler's Resurrection Symphony on BBC Sounds on Sunday afternoon. This is evidently a BIG prom for classical aficionados, as apparently the tickets to this one sold out on the day tickets were released back in May. We are about to hear a lengthy piece of work, with many existential questions being asked. 

My bike got a flat tyre last week when I was cycling to work, so I decide to try to fix this while I'm listening. I'm not successful in prizing the tyre off,  partially snapping both of the tyre levers I bought yesterday. I resort to using the flat end of a tablespoon - and this does help - but I only get the first side of the tyre off the rim. As I struggle and get frustrated, the music plays on. I'm reminded of that darky comic scene on Abigail's Party when Beethoven's Fifth blurs out of the stereo, as one of the leading characters suffers a heart attack. 

Admitting defeat, a vocal movement of the music begins, followed by an increase of catastrophic bursts. I know how Mahler feels.

Adams, Rachmaninov again!, and Berio...again.

 It's Friday evening and I am in a good mood, and not just for the usual reasons of finishing work for the weekend. It's August 1st, and the weather is overcast and the temperature in the air has dropped slightly. I always feel a light sense of melancholy when August arrives, with it being an indication that we are now entering late-summer, and on the descent towards dark nights and inclement weather. BUT - tonight is a bit special because I ran ten kilometers! I had only gone out for six, intending to lead up to ten by the end of this month. It think the air and clouds contributed to my success, and now at least I know I am capable!

To the music and tonight's programme opens with John Adams's The Chairman Dances. I've never heard it before but I like it. I like it a lot. It brings to my mind an image of a well-oiled machine; cogs and pistons interweaving seamlessly. There is a word for this style of playing but I can't bring it to mind in the moment. Writing this now, I think it might be spiccato - there's another piece by Paul Simon (Can't Run But) that also brings this pleasant motion to my mind. I ask ChatGPT and it also suggests 'motoric' or 'mechanistic'. Sounds about right, anyway!

Image: Pixabay.com

We then transition to Rachmaninov, a composer we have heard for the last three nights on the trot. Not that I'm complaining. It starts off big - sounds to me like Liberace playing alongside the climatic parts of Hedwig's Theme.

There is a break in proceedings when some sort of siren sounds at the hall. I am not aware of this - probably my cooking drowning out any incidental noises - but the radio presenter lets us know. The next movement is more chilled (which I suppose is to be expected from the second part of a concerto?)

I start typing up my blog about last night's late-night prom during the interval. 

The second half is Berio, who I have sort of already established is not really the composer for me. But I listen through and there are some interesting, albeit garish, motifs.

Happy Friday!

Rachmaninov and Copland

Rachmaninov and Copland

It's another 'early shift' this Thursday evening, with the show beginning at 18:30 as opposed to 19:30 (that means I have another prom to attend via Radio 3 in bed later this evening). As for the cooking, it's a carbon copy of Tuesday night.

Elsa Barraine's Symphony No. 2 opens this programme which is lightly themed towards music around wartime. And, indeed, this first piece sounds to me foreboding and militaristic. This is music that brings about a feeling of sorrow and reflection.

The second piece [Aaron Copland's Clarinet Concerto] opens more gently, and I think to myself 'sounds like the (bass) clarinet is soloing?' I was nearly right!

The last piece of the first half is the real treat for me... Artie Shaw's Clarinet Concerto brings us a subtle flavour of New Orleans jazz to begin with. What sounds similar to When The Saints Go Marching In develops gradually into a steady Glenn Miller-style feel.

I believe it is the clarinet player, Martin Fröst, who takes to the mic with some good humour and to explain the upcoming encore - it's a bit of Bach (you know I love him anyway) but tooted solely on the clarinet. It's a quirky number that leaves me smiling to myself.

Image: AI generated by Chat GPT

Symphonic Dances by Rachmaninov forms the second half of the show. It's a relaxing piece of music, so I lie on the settee to soak it up. I struggle to keep my eyes open as the daily tolls of the week catch up with me. 

Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto

 Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto, Grażyna Bacewicz's Concerto for String Orchestra, and Witold Lutosławski's Concerto for Orchestra

It's a bright instrumental opening from the orchestra on the first [Bacewic] piece, which is an early indication that I am going to like the tune as a whole. I enjoy this as I assemble the ingredients for my potato hash - another recipe straight from the Joe Wicks playbook. As the music plays on I imagine it underscoring a Joan Crawford film.

A famous piece from Rachmaninov follows, but it's not one I am personally familiar with. To start with, my ears are impaired by the sizzling frying pan, microwave, and air-fryer, all working in trandem. The music itself comes as a suprise to start with, as it is not what I expected from a famous Rachmaninov Though I'm not sure what exactly it was I did expect.
    When the rush of the cooking and eating has subsided, suddenly the music comes to the fore, and I get the feeling I am softly cruising through a Monet painting - colourful trees and lily-padded brooks I see in my mind's eye, all conjured by the musical notes. It's quite a feat, so well done Rachmaninov!

Image: My cooking efforts tonight.

There's an interesting discussion during the interval about 'What is a concerto for orchestra as opposed to a symphony etc. It's a question I'm wondering about too, the answer being that a concerto for orchestra allows all orchestra members a 'chance to shine' with the extremes of what their instruments can do. Anyone and everyone can take a solo - potential good news for me, as a forever-adoring fan of the music of Eric Clapton.

Image: Enjoying the second half

As the show resumes I move from the kitchen to the living room, opting to listen via my TV set rather than the HiFi tonight. Witold Lutosławski's Concerto for Orchestra opens in epic style. Intensely suspenseful. Really like this! Yes, it's exciting, it makes your heart pace that little bit faster. It settles down with chronic chimes and sporadic flourishes from various woodwind instruments (at least that's what it sounds like). I chill out and let my mind wander.

Beethoven and Birtwistle

It's Monday evening. I have got over my Monday working day; always tough but I have found the energy to complete a 5k run after work, watch Coronation St on ITVX ahead of tonight's broadcast, and now I am free to attend an evening at the Royal Albert Hall, via BBC Radio 3, starting 19:30 hours.

Two composers: one I am not at all familiar with, and another one I am much more familiar with - I'll not insult your intelligence by indicating which one is which.

First up is Earth Dances by Harrison Birtwistle. It's a dark, unsettling opening. The presenter explains it's a full orchestra tonight, the sound of which is evident from the very beginning. Just what I like to hear!
The word 'unsettling' is sustained in my mind as the piece progresses. There are some suspenseful moments which would not be out of place in a edge-of-your-seat thriller movie.

I wash the dishes during the interval. Not a huge task tonight. Risking an accusation of inverted snobbery, I start wondering who of my fellow Radio 3 listeners have just enjoyed a beans-on-toast?

Image: AI-generated by Chat GPT

Beethoven's Eroica. Believe it or not, I have actually seen this piece played before. It was at the Liverpool Philharmonic Hall in, I think, the January or February of 2019 (just pre-lockdown, one notes now).

At the last part of the interval I catch in interesting informational nugget from the presenter. He tells us of a connection between Beethoven and Napoleon. Didn't know that! Chat GPT (my modern-day Ask Jeeves) confirms this in 'eroic fashion:

I ask:
"Is there a connection between Beethoven's Eroica and Napoleon?"

ChatGPT said:

Yes — there's a very strong historical connection between Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3, "Eroica", and Napoleon Bonaparte, though it turned sour in dramatic fashion.

---

🎼 The Background

• In the early 1800s, Beethoven greatly admired Napoleon.

• He saw him as a symbol of Enlightenment ideals — a leader who rose through merit, not nobility, and someone who might bring liberty and equality to Europe, in the spirit of the French Revolution.

---

📝 Original Dedication

• Beethoven initially dedicated his Symphony No. 3 to Napoleon.

• The symphony was even originally titled:

  "Bonaparte"
  (Beethoven's sketchbooks and letters confirm this.)

---

💥 The Turning Point

• In 1804, Napoleon declared himself Emperor of the French.

• Beethoven felt betrayed, seeing Napoleon as having abandoned the democratic ideals he once championed.

• According to Beethoven's pupil Ferdinand Ries:

  • When Beethoven heard the news, he tore the title page in anger, shouting:

    “So he is no more than a common mortal! Now he too will tread under foot all the rights of man, indulge only his ambition; now he will think himself superior to all men, become a tyrant!”

---

🎻 Final Title

• The symphony was published in 1806 with a new title:

  “Sinfonia Eroica, composta per festeggiare il sovvenire di un grand’uomo”
  (“Heroic Symphony, composed to celebrate the memory of a great man”)

• That “great man” was no longer Napoleon, but possibly an abstract ideal, or even a mourning of lost hope.

---

🧠 Why It Matters

• The Eroica is often seen as the beginning of the Romantic era in music.

• It reflects Beethoven’s internal struggles and ideals, not just political ones — a heroic journey through conflict, death (the funeral march), and eventual triumph.

------

Now it makes sense! ARL

Wigglesworth, Mozart and Bruckner

 Sunday evening and we, the Radio 3 audience, are back, from Gateshead, to our home venue: The Royal Albert Hall.

And tonight's theme, we are told, is music and memory. The first piece to be played is a world premiere of Ryan Wigglesworth's for Laura, after Bach. I'm really touched by the back story of this piece of music, which was composed in memory of Laura Samuel, who died aged just 48, having been the leader of BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. And it's a sad piece. Grand, but haunting.

Mozart begins as I hang out my pillow cases to dry. Impressive piano work as is so typical of Mozart. (Just remembered - this is a piano concerto, isn't it. No wonder!). After a round of applause the encore is another piano-centric piece by Liszt. Very nice!

During the interval, we listening on Radio 3 are offered a teaser of what is to come on Tuesday. Namely the music of Arooj Aftab. I am already familiar with her work so I am very much looking forward to that one.

Finally, I relish the moment of listening to a composer [Anton Bruckner] I have absolutely no familiarity with. Naturally, the style of the piece is novel to my ear. I pour myself a small Scotch and water, and raise a glass to the weekend past.

Image: Pixabay.com

Bach and Mendelssohn in Gateshead

The third and (thankfully) final of today's proms on BBC Radio 3. I say thankfully only because it has been a near-seven hour shift today. Fortunately this one features two of my favourite composers, Bach and Mendelssohn.

I am back in the kitchen, and my ears are impaired by the spin of my washing machine, and my air fryer baking a Higgidy steak and ale pie (which I later pair with a can of Vimto zero - it is Saturday after all).

In Gateshead with the Royal Northern Symphonia, Bach's Keyboard Concerto in D minor certainly does start off heavy on the keyboard. Indeed, you can't move for the keys virtuosity in this piece of music.

During the interval, I think I catch the announcer saying that the conductor, Dinis Sousa, claims Bach as his favourite composer since childhood. This is something we have in common, though I would wager we took a different route. Chuckles at the Hamlet cigar commercials were my way in.

The second half is Mendelssohn's Symphony No. 2 in B flat major, and this showcases some beautiful movements on the strings, leading to grand choral works from the Hudderfield Choral Society.

I finish my tea and soak up the glory of this final piece of the day!

The Traitors Prom

I am cruising along the M53 when this afternoon's performance begins. 

We start off with Ave Maria, and I chuckle to myself, not being able to think of anything but that episode of Father Ted (IYKYK).

Tonight it is The Traitors prom. It is a global phenomenon we are told, but unfortunately I am one of the  uninitiated. From what I can gather, it's a bit like Takeshi's Castle for the culturally-enriched. It's set in a Scottish castle, and you are either a Traitor or a Faithful, on a quest to swipe a bag of gold at the top of the tower. Sounds a bit like Hex at Alton Towers?

Really liked the opening number. Sleek, modern, exciting. It ends with one of my favourite of all ceremonial instruments - the bagpipes.

While I'm not yet on board with whether I am a Traitor or a Faithful, there is one deadly sin that I succumb to when I hear the opening dongs of Saint-Saens' Danse Macabre: Jealousy. Why oh why did I not book to see this prom live? By this time I am pulling into my driveway, and I keep the engine running while this symphonic poem plays out.

I switch off in haste when a Britany Spears' cover follows, but only to run into the living room to hook up BBC sounds to my hifi via bluetooth. 

The rest of the first half is a bit of a blur as I nurse my wound of missing out on the opportunity to witness Danse Macabre live. But there is a excerpt from Puccni's Tosca; an opera I remember seeing at Liverpool's St George's Hall back in, I think, 2019.

By the time the second half beings I am a bit more relaxed, sitting on my sofa with laptop on lap, typing this up as I try to listen and interpret in real time. We sway from choral to modern mixes. I confess that I'm finding it hard to get on board with 'the game', being more focused on the music itself. Finding it difficult to keep up with the music coming up ad hoc, with no published guide to help me out. But, in any case, may the music play! I'll enjoy listening to the rest of the murders as I put a load in the washing machine.

Beethoven's Fifth, Bruckner's Skull, and a bit o' Saint-Saens!

Beethoven's Fifth, Bruckner's Skull, and a bit o' Saint-Saens!

Very exciting prom for me this Friday night, because not only is it going to feature the most famous piece of classical music ever (well, the opening is at least, isn't it?), but it is also going to feature one of my all-time favourite composers - Camille Saint-Saens - in the form of his piano concerto No. 5 in F Major, 'Egyptian'.

Image created with  Chat GPT.

Tonight is the tenth concert from London, and it's the Scottish Chamber Orchestra this evening. I am almost late to the Albert Hall as I have forgotten about the earlier start time of 18:30. But despite this I do reach for my kitchen radio's power on button just in the nick of time, with less than two minutes to spare. I'm back on the microwave meal for one; this evening's offering being a chicken tikka masala from Lidl's Deluxe range. I pair this with some stilton (left over from this weeks salads), on Scottish oatcakes.

The programme opens with some French baroque to start. It's a piece called Les Indes galantes, by composer Jean‐Philippe Rameau. To me does sound typical baroque: very mellow and pleasant, with the typical harpsichord glangs and brass bursts that so define the period.

Next up it's Saint-Saens, whom I really do love to bits (I would pay Oasis prices to see a Danse Macabre live). And yes, this piano concerto does, to my ear at least, scream of his style: emotional rollercoaster highs and lows, crisp piano notes, gentle woodwind reminders, and all underscored by breathtaking acceleration on the strings.

I did predict that Alfred Hitchcock would once more come to my mind, but I didn't think happen again so soon! So it comes to pass with Bruckner’s Skull by Jay Capperauld. On the opening I can't help but be reminded of the atmospheric 'stabbing' noises of Psycho; but these ones are not as intense, and rather fit with the general death theme as opposed to murder. If I was blindfolded to the background of the piece, the word 'revenge' would spring to my own mind. There are really interesting motifs later in the song that remind me of Jerry Goldsmith's score from the 1990 film Total Recall. Incidentally, Goldsmith is another of my all-time faves.

And then, the one we've all been waiting for: Beethoven's Fifth! 'Nuff said!

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’.

Boulez and Berio - late night prom

 

Photo: screenshot from BBC Radio 3 Instagram stories

This may have been a prom where physical attendance at the Royal Albert Hall would have been more beneficial to soak up the atmosphere. We’re told by the presenter that the hall is in complete darkness, and it’s only later on Instagram stories that I see the trombonist in his full clown regalia.

As it is, I tune in from the portable DAB radio in my bedroom. The show starts off with a haunting trombone solo - lots of rips and tears. Could almost have been hooked up to a Wah Wah effect. Like a distorted morse code, such is Berio’s Sequenza V!

Next we move to Boulez, which is a tune in a similar vein. I guessed the instrument was a clarinet, and I’m pleased to get my thoughts confirmed when looking up the playbill.

Back to Berio, and this one has more layers in the form of vocals and harpsichord flourishes. I struggled to catch all of the words with my radio being on low volume, but it seemed to flit from French to English, and back again. Zany, nightmarish. A collection of existential crises. Traditionally, these are the things I try to avoid before bed.

French Night

Discipline was the order of the day today, because this evening’s prom broadcast will start at 18:30, and hour earlier than previous days. Cycle home from work and 5k run done, then eggs ans avocado on toast prepared ahead of the show. 

Tonight is French Night at the proms, but ironically we open up with Ravel’s Rapsodie Espagnole, because apparently he had a penchant for all things Spanish. A nice saccharine movement; the trills, if that’s the correct term, put me in mind of a Disney/Cinderella fantasy.

Next up is a piece older than Ravel, by a composer called Joseph Bologne. I’m really interested to hear the history of this French composer, who was born in colonial France to a plantation owner and his enslaved wife. Need to look up more details about him when I get time. American violinist Randall Goosby makes his proms debut on this violin concerto in G major, and I really enjoy the way his playing blends with the Orchestre National de France, at whole. 

During the internal I move from the kitchen/diner, and hook up BBC Sounds to the hifi in the living room. 

Danse mystique is a lovely piece, and in the nicest possible way I am starting to drift in and out of  consciousness on the settee. Blissfully, as my strict routine from this week catches up with me. 

 I’m triggered by the back story of the next piece, which is called Poeme and has something to do with love triangles. The radio presenter describes a story of two men in love, one being successful and the other gracefully goes off travelling. I have a flash thought about my next world voyage. It’s a great piece of music by Ernest Chausson - it would be a fit retort for when someone says ‘I’ll get my violin out.’

We end as we began, with a bit of Ravel. Le valse sounds a bit more French, and now there’s just enough time to catch Coronation Street on ITV1+1 before the late night prom tonight.

And so it’s not goodbye, but Au revoir!

Strauss, Simpson, and Berlioz

General photo of the RAH by me. 

Just as last night, I enter the Royal Albert Hall via Radio 3 in my kitchen. Tonight, though, the microwave is unplugged and I am quietly preparing one of my ‘go to’ salads. 

We kick off with Strauss’s ‘Death and transfiguration’. The music itself seems pleasant enough (is that the point?). Just prior to tuning in this evening, the news of Ozzy Osbourne’s death popped up on my phone. All my social media feeds are awash with the news, and it is this that I have reverberating through my head. So - even if I cant sense the narcotic theme through the instrumentation - I’m still getting it. Add to this the pink-red staining on my hands and splatted all over my kitchen sink, as I drain the beetroot (not a euphemism).

Next up is the world premiere of Mark Simpson’s ZEBRA. And this is where it gets interesting for me, because it’s going to feature electric guitar - my own instrument! I’m a Clapton man myself, but I’m wondering if Sean Shibe’s playing is drawing influence from another of my guitar heroes, the late great Jeff Beck? Certainly sounds like; his playing is transcendent and I’m now starting to feel the hallucinogenics. 

I pick up a bit of Bladerunner philosophy during the interval, but not being familiar with the franchise (I know, I know… it’s on the list), this sadly falls on deaf ears.

Last but not least it’s the Symphonie Fantastique by Hector Berlioz. I’m still a bit giddy from the electric guitar, and once again I’m struggling to catch on to the dark narcotic feel of this piece (sounds nice enough?!). More than anything though, I’m wondering why I haven’t heard of Berlioz before (thought he was a modern-day composer before looking him up - is that bad?)

Mahler, and Monolgues for the Curious

Tonight marked a shift in my attendance at the proms, as I gladly welcomed the Royal Albert Hall into my back kitchen via BBC Radio 3.

I was unsure what to expect, but I would actually say the absence of the visuals sort of enhanced the experience!

The introductory preamble was muted somewhat by my meal-for-one finishing off in the microwave [a co-op irresistible chicken and chorizo paella that I picked up on my lunch break this afternoon - my Monday routine being somewhat skewered by arriving back from London at 10pm last night].

It’s the BBC philharmonic orchestra this evening (note to self: must once again look up the distinction between concert, philharmonic, and symphony orchestras).

We start off with a proms premiere, Tom Coult’s Monologues for the Curious. And I have to say I am very curious when I hear the music has been inspirited by the writings of MR James. I am familiar with the author’s Christmas ghost stories, so this is surely going to be something dark, erratic, and a bit confusing? The Jamesian imagery certainly came out in the music, and I felt a resoance with my own mood as I sat alone, tucking into my microwaved fare.

Next up we have Gustav Mahler’s Symphony no. 7. The opening, to my untrained mind, sounded heavy on the big-end brass, and akin to the opening of an early Hitchcock movie. The piece then moves on to some more subtle nuances, and minuscule fanfares. A bit later on I get the feeling of being lost in a forest, and as it progressed I jotted down some things without trying to think about it. They were, in order:

1) A troubled peace

2) Some pomp and a grand statement

3) A confusion between it all.

And that was that. I wonder if my learned friends were as blissfully confused as I was?

Samara Joy

Always fun to attend the Royal Albert Hall in person, and tonight was no exception. I love the place, and I’m seldom happier than when I stroll across Kensington Gardens from my hotel, to reach the RAH, where, invariably, I am in for a night of world-class entertainment.

Arrived at the Albert Hall ahead of time. Outside I was handed a ‘newspaper’ and sticker by everythingjazz.com. I happily accepted.  

I had just enough time to peruse the proms and RAH merchandise in the foyer. Picked up my ‘must-have’ proms guide - a nice heavy yellow book priced £9.99, and also the programme for tonight’s specific entertainment (£7). 

Notes on the venue:

Tonight I was sat in Rausing circle P, row 3, seat 1. The weather outside was muggy and humid - typical July - and I did struggle to cool down inside the hall. I noticed a few fellow prommers fanning themselves with programmes.

Not that that took away any of the magic of the show:

For the show itself:

Well, what a night of sublime jazz at the RAH last night! In this run I had to chose one weekend when I could afford to attend the proms in person, and I don’t regret choosing this weekend.

I had not heard of Samara Joy before, but I am sure her name will be one to remember. Just 25 years old, she has a voice and stage presence way ahead of her years. 

It is hard to pick a favourite song because it was, honestly, all stand out. If there was a stronger half, I would say it was the second (cue outfit change, from white to red!)

Sticking in my memory are the Billy Holliday and Duke Ellington covers, the 5 (was it?) shades of love, and the encore.

And encore, I say!