Shostakovich’s Fifth by Heart

Shostakovich’s Fifth by Heart
Royal Albert Hall

I delay listening to this Saturday evening Prom, instead opting to fill the time slot by watching the televised Anoushka Shankar Prom from earlier in the week. One I enjoyed profoundly. I did intend to listen later in the evening, but I was too tired.

So it is that I start listening on Sunday afternoon, the first forty minutes in the car as I drive back from my parents' house, where I usually stay on a Saturday night.

It's not so much music, but a dramatic performance by a troupe of actors, that opens the show. Now, I should mention that - prior to listening - I have no idea of the background of Shostakovich’s Fifth. So what's going on here?! Sounds like it's 'Shostakovich on Trail,' with an undercurrent of political espionage, and a desire for censorship. There's a lot of disdainful talk about his Lady Macbeth (which I gather we'll be hearing later in this Proms 2025 season). Some speculation as to whether he blended some sort of secret codes into his composition.

"Your business is rejoicing!" we hear. Was he being coerced into something?

["We absolutely DO NOT approve of Mahler!", they also exclaim ---- I'll give them that one.]

The final line from the performance is one that rings in my head as being a philosophy applicable to life at whole: "The truth is, we'll never know". But what they are talking about here, I think, is whether Shostakovich was serious with his Fifth, or was he having a laugh? I ask ChatGPT if it can provide me with some background of the piece in very simple terms, and it confirms roughly what I was thinking. 

It's been a glorious day, so for the second half I sit out with a bottle of lager from Aldi, and a packet of Red Leicester Mini Cheddars, with the programme spilling out of my JBL mini, which I picked up for a song from Tesco Heswall with the aid of Clubcard points, about ten years ago. Still going strong.

And so to the music, and tonight it's the Aurora orchestra, undertaking the Herculean task of performing an entire symphony by memory. Very well it's done, too!

Opens quite depressingly, and this it sustains. If the 'D Major' ending is triumphant, it's weak.

Me, personally? It's got to be a sneaky farce. Why? Because if this is a straight and serious composition, then he wasn't very good at it.

Benjamin Grosvenor Plays Ravel

Benjamin Grosvenor Plays Ravel
Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joe Hisaishi and Steve Reich

Joe Hisaishi and Steve Reich
Royal Albert Hall

What starts as apprehension, turns to delight. Allow me to explain...

Earlier in the day, I see briefly on the Proms website that tonight it's going to be a Japanese composer - one I haven't heard of. Does film scores apparently.

Now, I am not a stranger to Japanese culture. I have visited the county three times (2011, 2014, and 2016), and made many friends on my jaunts to see Eric Clapton play there. Before the first time I went (back in 2011) I decided to watch fifty Japanese films, in a cultural endeavor not too far removed from this Proms one. That was my introduction to Japanese cinema, so I am aware that the themes can range anywhere from the quietly cerebral, to the most violent extreme. I'm really hoping for the former.

During the introduction of the programme I discover - not only that it's another 'capacity crowd' at the RAH - but that I do know the music of Joe Hisaishi after all...I just didn't realise I did. We're told that he's a Studio Ghibli legend. Aha! Studio Ghibli! Now I can make an educated guess on what is coming. I am familiar with Ponyo from my aforementioned film marathon in 2011. And I saw a special screening of My Neighbour Totoro at the Fact cinema in Liverpool a few years ago. So the music itself is likely to fall somewhere between Spyro the Dragon on Playstation, and Indiana Jones at the Odeon. That's exactly what we get, and that's all right with me!

It starts with some nice Piano - Hisaishi is playing the piano himself, I learn - and it's got that sort of inspirational-moment sound to it. Hard to put it into precise words.

I haven't looked up any of the background of the second piece, but this is where the orchestra at large becomes more involved. Maybe it's just me but I’m imagining exotic animals; snake charmers, swinging on ropes through the jungle, and rafting water rapids on a garden gate… all that jazz. There comes some lovely plucks on the double bass which my new Bluetooth speaker (did I tell you about it?!) enables me to pick out. The solo vocal brings it back down to earth, and the vocal ensemble later lifts it back off the ground. We go up and down like this a few times, with the lyrics proclaiming ‘it’s the end of the world'. This piece - I learn after it finishes - is actually called The End of the World, and was inspired by Hisaishi's visit to Ground Zero. With regards the music, all I can say is this: if that's apocalypse, bring it on.

The interval kicks in, and I take some time to listen to the chat. I'm happy to learn that I wasn't the only one thinking of John Williams scores. Tonight I have not done much in the way of cooking. Overdid it a bit with the cakes and sweets in the office this afternoon. So I spread some butter-spreadable on a slice of Lidl's Malted Bloomer (I highly recommend this bread). Pair it with a protein yoghurt. Tonight I've opted to sit out in my back yard and watch the daylight disappear as the programme progresses.

We get played a sample of Steve Reich as the interval reaches its conclusion. The repeating whirls remind me of Philip Glass, who has become another favourite of mine after Alistair McGowan told me about him after his [Alistair's] piano show in Liverpool in April 2022.

And so, the final piece we hear follows in this Glassesque style, but with a more sinister inflections to my ear. 

[Side note: Never heard of Steve Reich before, and I hear the name as Steve Wright to start with, who was a Radio 2 hero of mine, but that's another story...]

Boléro and The Rite of Spring

Boléro and The Rite of Spring
Royal Albert Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Cavemen

The Cavemen
Royal Albert Hall

Still coming down from the high of Anoushka Shankar's prom earlier in the evening, I retire to bedlam and switch on the bedside radio. The atmosphere at the Albert Hall is going to be maintained, and arguably revved up even more, with this late night prom.

Tonight it is 'Nigerian sensations', Kingsley Okorie and Benjamin James. The music starts and I am not sure how to categorise it. It's got a slight calypso feel? [Side note: I wonder if calypso has ever been experimented at the proms - a stage of steel drums would surely be divine?!].

It turns out that the genre I'm actually looking for is 'Highlife'. Nigerian highlife, to be precise. It's a new one on me! I will be looking this up in more depth when I get chance.

There's lead guitar lines (always a good thing) that sound very Santana, and there's audience participation, with the whole hall chanting to one of the songs (I think it was called Chameleon).

The music turns to a more meditative sound at the end, and - in the nicest possible way - I struggle to stay awake. But awake I do stay, right up until we are handed from the Royal Albert Hall, back to broadcasting house.

Image: Pixabay.com

Anoushka Shankar: ‘Chapters’

Anoushka Shankar: ‘Chapters’
Royal Albert Hall

Yes friends, it's the one I've been waiting for. One I so wish I could have attended personally, but you know how it is...

I know it is going to be special, because every concert with Anoushka Shankar is. Personally, I have been lucky enough to see her perform live one time, which was at the Llangollen Eisteddfod in 2022. It was a mid-summer evening, the weather was great, the front of the stage was adorned with beautiful flowers, and the music was out of this world. I remember being there (alone) and feeling very happy and content with life.

But life doesn't always deal us good hands, and later that year saw some personal loss and torment in my life. It is reassuring, therefore, when Anoushka takes to the stage and tells the audience about her own struggles, and how her series of mini albums - Chapters - were born out of this.

At the Eisteddfod in 2022, Anoushka was backed by the Britten Sinfonia, and split the bill with her collaborator, Manu Delago, whose set I also very much enjoyed and learned from. They had just released their album (literally on the very same day of that gig - Friday 8th July 2022). I liked their collaboration so much that I ordered the album on vinyl at my earliest opportunity.

Fast forward to the Royal Albert Hall on 12th August 2025. I am listening live via BBC Sounds in my back room. I decide tonight not for the kitchen radio, but to listen on my new Bluetooth speaker I picked up in London on Saturday (a privilege I did not grant to Mahler last night).

The music starts softly, with the hallmark glangs and bends of the sitar. The orchestra subtly joins in. It's one of those where you would only notice their absence if they stopped playing, if that makes sense. Subtle, but vital. One can hear a pin drop in the Albert Hall - no rogue coughs picked up by the recording gear tonight!

Of course, all of it is a highlight. I note that the undercurrent of the orchestra takes an interesting turn during Dancing on Scorched Earth. And my favourite moment comes around 45 minutes into the programme - the build-up ending of New Dawn, where the sitar and orchestra are fully working together, and my head starts to fizz with the visual emotion of it.

Mahler’s Third

Mahler's Third at the Royal Albert Hall

As if Mondays aren't traumatic enough. The whole World, we are told via Radio 3, in one piece of music. From the gruesome, to the most divine.

One thing's for sure, it is going to be epic, even if I don't like it. 

The opening is grand on the brasses, and it sounds good. Not long, though, before it turns sinister. Gets a bit more pleasant about ten minutes in. Some roller coaster moves when my clock shows 19:25. [For reference: the show started at 19:00]. 

At the end of the first movement I leave the living room for the kitchen. It's hot dogs tonight.

The second movement is more peaceful. Fair enough, Mahler. The vocals at 20:12 make for a refreshing change, and the incoming church bells are here to lighten things up!

There's gentle strings at 20:26.

It's nice at 20:37, probably because it's wrapping up for the night.

One of the longest symphonies ever written. Mahler, I expected nothing less.