Last Night of the Proms 2025

Last Night of the Proms 2025
Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

The music:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Wilson Conducts Bernstein and Ravel

John Wilson Conducts Bernstein and Ravel

Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Fridge Door.

Brahms’s Second Symphony

Brahms’s Second Symphony

Royal Albert Hall

Standard day at the office. Cycled in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do we have in store then, I wonder?

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

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

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

Photo by me, from 20th July 2025.

'Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony'

'Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony'

Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

Image: Pixabay.com

Avi Avital: Between Worlds

Avi Avital: Between Worlds

Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

Some more percussive music follows. Very nice and exotic.

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

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

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

ChatGPT replies:

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

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

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

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

Good night!

Image: Pixabay.com

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Mozart and Tchaikovsky

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Mozart and Tchaikovsky
Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by me [Edinburgh city].

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Bruckner’s Ninth

Vienna Philharmonic Plays Bruckner’s Ninth

Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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