A chance comment on Twitter concerning the origin of the phrase Indian Summer (which, contrary to popular belief, has nothing to do with India) reminded me of this lovely old recording by the late great Sidney Bechet. So since we’re currently experiencing an Indian Summer, why not bask in its glow?
“You gotta be in the Sun to feel the Sun” – Sidney Bechet.
Follow @telescoperA very busy week for me ended with a very busy Friday including a postgraduate induction event followed by our annual postgaduate conference. It was actually a very enjoyable day with some really excellent talks by research students about their ongoing projects, but by the end of the afternoon I was definitely flagging.
Fortunately I’d planned a reward at the end of this week in the form of a concert at St David’s Hall, Cardiff, by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales and the BBC National Chorus of Wales with conductor Thierry Fischer. I bought a group of tickets for myself and some colleagues from work, hoping that it would prove an uplifting experience. We weren’t disappointed.
Before the interval (of which more anon) we heard On the Transmigration of Souls by John Adams. Written as a response to the events of September 11th 2001, this is an unusual composition involving orchestra, chorus, children’s choir, and pre-recorded tape. Opinions about this piece are generally pretty divided and that also proved to be the case with the half-a-dozen of us who attended last night. All thought the orchestral music was very good indeed, but some found the recorded bits intrusive and the text, which includes phrases from missing-persons posters and memorials posted around Ground Zero to be a mixture of the banal and the mawkish. I wasn’t as negative about these aspects as some seem to have been, but at the same time I didn’t feel the pre-recorded segments actually added very much and they did sometimes make it difficult to hear the subtle textures in the orchestra. And as for the text being “banal”, that seems to me to be entirely the point. It’s the everdayness of loss that makes grief so overwhelming.
Anyway, I thought it was a fascinating piece and it’s definitely the first time I’ve seen the violin section of an orchestra come on stage with two violins each. Some passages call for altered tunings, so they swapped instruments regularly throughout the performance. The orchestra played wonderfully well, I should say, and the performance was warmly received by the audience.
Then came the interval, during which the fire alarm went off and we had to evacuate the concert hall. Fortunately it was a sultry evening – we’re in the midst of an early autumn heatwave here – and it wasn’t at all unpleasant to get a bit of fresh air while they figured out what had caused the alarm.
When we got back in it became obvious that quite a few people had left, possibly because they thought the performance wouldn’t resume. Those that didn’t return missed an absolute treat.
I’m not even going to attempt a description of Beethoven’s “Choral” Symphony No. 9 in D Minor. Suffice to say that it’s one of the pinnacles of human achievement, made all the more remarkable by the fact that Beethoven was profoundly deaf when it was written. It’s a masterpiece of such dimensions that words are completely unnecessary to describe it, even if one could find words that were appropriate in the first place. Moreover, I think it’s a piece you really have to hear live for it to really live. Our seats were almost at the front of the stalls, very near the stage and close enough for me to to be able to feel the fortissimo passages through the soles of my feet. Perhaps that’s the only way Beethoven himself ever heard this piece?
And as for last night’s performance, what can I say? The first, Allegro, movement, an entire symphony in itself, found the orchestra at the very peak of its collective prowess. Their playing was passionate and vivid, yet tightly disciplined and the orchestra seemed to be pervaded by a sense that it was an absolute privilege to be playing an undisputed masterpiece. I was so carried away that at the end of that movement an involuntary tear fell from my eye.
I’ll just add one other observation about this piece, concerning the final movement, based around Beethoven’s setting of parts of Schiller’s poem Ode to Joy to which Beethoven himself added some material. This is so famous that I suspect it’s the only part of the symphony that many people have heard. Hearing it in the context of the entire work, however, makes it all the more dramatic and inspirational. It’s not just that you have to wait so long for the choir (who have been sitting patiently behind the orchestra for three movements) to let rip, but also that you’ve experienced so much wonderful music by the time you get there that the final is virtually guaranteed to leave you completely overwhelmed.
Sincerest thanks to Thierry Fischer and the BBC National Orchestra and Chorus of Wales for an absolutely unforgettable experience. Uplifting? Not half!
P.S. The performance was recorded for broadcast by BBC Radio 3 on October 3rd 2011 in Afternoon on 3 and will presumably be on iPlayer for a week after that. Do listen to it if you get the chance. Even if only a small fraction of the atmosphere inside St David’s Hall makes its way into the airwaves then it will still be worth a listen..
Follow @telescoperAnother sign that autumn is nigh is that the opera season has started again, which at least gives me the opportunity to resume my series of occasional opera reviews.
I was planning to go to see the new Welsh National Opera production of Don Giovanni by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart last week but was stymied it clashed with the cricket, which turned out to be a day-night game finishing too late to allow me to go to both. Anyway, I was able to get tickets for last night’s performance as well as dispose of last week’s so it all worked out for me in the end.
First night reviews of this production weren’t particularly good – the reviews in the Telegraph and the Guardian are fairly typical – which probably accounted for the fact that the Wales Millennium Centre wasn’t particularly full even for such an extremely popular opera. I don’t usually pay much attention to reviews myself and I thought the critics were excessively harsh, although some of the points they make are valid.
I won’t repeat the synopsis in detail here because it’s probably familiar to most people likely to read this, even those who aren’t opera buffs. In fact it’s all explained by the subtitle il dissolute punito. We meet the villainous “nobleman” Don Giovanni attempting to molest Donna Anna after sneaking into the house of the Commendatore, Donna Anna’s father. Don Giovanni is rumbled and confronted by the Commendatore; a duel ensues which appears to be ending without bloodshed until the Don draws a dagger and murders the Commendatore.
There then follows a series of escapades: attempted seductions, disguises, mistaken identities, narrow escapes, and so on. Typical comic opera stuff in fact, except that it’s not really typical comic opera because it’s comic opera with music by Mozart and libretto by da Ponte. In other words, it’s genius.
Finally, Don Giovanni’s past catches up to him. He taunts a statue of the dead Commendatore while seeking refuge in a graveyard. Later, back at Don Giovanni’s house the statue arrives and sends Don Giovanni to Hell.
The first impression you get of this production on entering the theatre is the monumental set, which is based (not inappropriately) on the Gates of Hell by Auguste Rodin (shown left), a huge bronze sculpture that depicts a scene from Dante’s Inferno. What you see on stage, however, is not a simple replica of the Rodin piece, but a series of variations on and extensions of the original artwork. Extra pieces are added to form a walled courtyard, it opens out to form a series of rooms and chambers, and in the end the gates themselves open to take the eponymous villain down to Hell (along with a smoke and fire effect which unfortunately didn’t work very well last night; there wasn’t enough smoke to engulf him as was clearly intended).
The idea of basing the set around this work of art was potentially brilliant but I didn’t think it really worked as well as it might. The reason is that the magic of Mozart’s operas emanates, at least in part, from the huge dramatic contrasts. Don Giovanni certainly has a very dark edge, but it also has a great many lighter comic episodes, some of them bordering on the slapstick. Having this heavy sombre backdrop to everything tended to dampen the swings between light and shade. It’s as if the production was so obsessed with this one idea, that everything else became subservient to it. What could have been brilliant was just too clumsy. You don’t have to force things so much, especially not with Mozart, especially not with Don Giovanni.
Another criticism I would make concerns David Kempster as Don Giovanni. He certainly sang extremely well, his smoky baritone voice sounding very rakish. However I thought he acted the part too broadly, at times like a pantomime villain, to the extent that he seemed delighted by the theatrical boos he got on his curtain call. He was at times very funny indeed, but again I thought he was a bit forced.
However, if it sounds like I’m being very negative about the performance then I don’t mean to be. Apart from the unnecessarily imposing set, the look of the production is wonderful: the costumes and lighting were beautifully done, and the crypto-Gothic look was appropriately spooky when “spooky” was called for.
David Soar was a really oustanding Leporello; I think the audience agreed with me as he got a huge cheer at the end. Camilla Roberts was excellent as Donna Anna as was Nuccia Focile as Donna Elvira. On the other hand I found Carlo Malinverno a disappointment as the Commendatore. He looked scary enough but his undistinguished and occasionally wobbly bass voice didn’t have the necessary menace for climactic scene with Don Giovanni near the end. For me it has to be a voice that really reverberates with doom. Few can really pull it off, and Carlo Malinverno isn’t one of them.
A special mention, however, must be made of Samantha Hay, who stepped in at short notice to sing the part of Zerlina owing to the indisposition of Claire Ormshaw. She was absolutely wonderful, with a beautifully crystal-clear voice and engaging stage presence. Well done to her for a performance that was very warmly received by the audience.
Watching the opera last night it struck me again, as it always does listening to Don Giovanni, just how many great pieces of music there are in it. Whereas most operas can offer at most a few set-pieces, in Don Giovanni they keep coming one after the other for well over three hours. This is Mozart at the very peak of his powers, and a few blemishes don’t even come close to taking the magic away.
Follow @telescoperI’m finally back from a pretty intense three days in dear old Swindon. On the train coming home I happened to listen to this classic for the first time in ages and, too tired for anything else this evening, I thought I’d share this version I found on Youtube because it’s positively dripping with nostalgia for the Swinging Sixties.
Incidentally, I’ve always believed that a Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum was based pretty directly on music by Johan Sebastian Bach. I don’t know who told me so, but I’ve always taken it for granted. Listening to it a few times on my iPod and again since I got home has made me realise that I’ve probably been a bit unfair to the songwriters Gary Booker, Keith Reid and Matthew Fisher, a sentiment confirmed by the wikipedia article about the piece I linked to through its title.
It is true that it sounds very much like Bach, especially the trademark descending bass figures which feature in the Hammond organ part; indeed, the first few bars of the accompaniment are pretty much identical to the second movement from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D major, BWV 1068 better known as “Air on the G String“. After that, although the piece continues to sound like Bach, in the sense that the chord progression has a compelling sense of logic to it, it’s not an copy of anything I recognize (although of course I stand ready to be contradicted by music experts…). The melody is also, as far as I’m aware, quite original.
Here are the chords, by the way, if you’re interested. They’re a great illustration of the difference between a real progression and just a sequence. In fact I’m quite surprised this hasn’t been taken up by more jazz musicians, as it looks like very fertile grounds for improvisation – just as much of Bach’s own music is.
Anyway, whatever the inspiration, it was a huge hit and I think it still sounds fresh and interesting over 40 years later. I for one don’t think the word “masterpiece” is an exaggeration.
Follow @telescoperAfter a very long day I’m too tired this evening to post anything too demanding, so I thought I’d put up a bit of old jazz. In fact this is the Humphrey Lyttelton Band vintage 1954, recorded live at the Conway Hall. This record was a bit of a novelty at the time because it was one of those new fangled Long Playing discs (LPs). Anyway, the tune Memphis Shake is introduced by Humph as “from way back” and I in fact posted the original version some time ago. The band clearly enjoyed playing that night “way back” in 1954.
There’s no actual video but if you notice you get a good look at the album cover, which features cartoons drawn by Humph himself. That gives me the opportunity to remind everyone that as well as being a fine trumpeter and bandleader, as well as radio presenter with a dry sense of humour and impeccable comic timing, he was also an extremely talented cartoonist and caricaturist. Here is another example – I think his cartoon of himself is really excellent!
Too busy for anything else today so I’ll make do with a piece of music. No apologies, however, for “making do” with one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. I don’t admitting that this reduces me to jelly every time I hear it. Richard Strauss possessed an amazing gift for writing for the female voice, but in this trio from Act III of Der Rosenkavalier, the whole exceeds even the sum of the exquisite parts. The title, roughly speaking, means “I made a vow” but with music like this the words are almost irrelevant…
Follow @telescoperYesterday’s attempt by the so-called English Defence League (a group of violent Neo-Nazi thugs) to stir up trouble in the East End of London was the cue for thousands of anti-fascists to stage a counter-demonstration. Many were worried that this would lead to a repeat of the Battle of Cable Street, but thankfully that didn’t happen. While it’s reassuring that the number of of EDL supporters amounted to just a few hundred – many fewer than those who protested against them – it still fills me with sadness that there are even that many people who are prepared to follow such an organization. The lessons of history make it clear that the journey they want to take will lead to an England that isn’t worth defending, so they must be stopped at the outset with every peaceful means possible.
I wasn’t able to get to London for the demonstration, but if I had it would no doubt filled me with nostalgia because the anti-EDL protestors were chanting “¡No pasarán!” (“They Shall Not Pass“), a slogan redolent with nostalgia for me, from my time as a student leftie, and which dates from the heroic defence of Madrid against Franco’s fascists during the Spanish Civil War. In those days (when I was student, I mean, not during the Spanish Civil War!) I was a member of the Nicaragua Solidarity Campaign and remember hearing the band, Zinica, singing a song with that title (which I’ve put below). I even bought their album, Bluefields Express, which I still have.
The members of Zinica hailed from the caribbean cost of Nicaragua which was extensively settled by English people, so a number of the towns in that area have English names, such as Bluefields. Many of their songs were based on traditional English folk songs, especially sea shanties, but with a definite flavour of calypso and reggae.
Anyway, now in my complacent middle age, I thank the EDL for one thing only – reminding me of the sad fact that fascism remains a threat to which we all must be alert. Next time the EDL try to incite violence again, I’ll definitely be among those protesting against them.
No pasarán.
Follow @telescoperWell, the summer’s just about over again once more and soon we’ll be welcoming the new academic year. I thought I’d mark the occasion of the First of September with the same song that I posted this time a couple of years ago. It’s quite a different version, though, this one featuring the luscious velvet voice of Sarah Vaughan, not to mention the trumpet of Clifford Brown. Here they are with September Song, by Kurt Weill:
Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
And you ain’t got time for the waiting game
Oh the days days dwindle down to a precious few
September November,
And these few golden days I’d share with you
Those golden days I share with you
Well here’s a find for fan’s of Miles Davis. I stumbled across this exceedingly rare clip of his 1969 band playing at Ronnie Scott’s Club in London, complete with an introduction by Ronnie Scott himself. It’s rare, firstly, because Miles didn’t do many club gigs at this time (or after) and I have a feeling that this might be one of his last; he usually played big concert venues whenever he toured in later years. But an even rarer thing about it is that this is the legendary “Lost Quintet” of Miles (on trumpet, of course), Wayne Shorter on saxophone(s), Chick Corea (keyboards), Jack de Johnette on drums and Dave Holland on bass.
Filmed in November 1969, this performance took place just a few months after the recording sessions that give rise to the celebrated but controversial album Bitches Brew, which was released in April 1970. The band at Ronnie Scotts was a subset of the larger ensemble that made the album, but you can hear the similarity in musical style, heavily influenced by psychedelic rock…
And here, for completeness, is a fuller version of the title track of the album Bitches Brew, recorded just two days later in the Tivoli Concert Hall in Copenhagen.
Miles was obviously experimenting with a much freer form of improvisation at this time and both the album and this live performance seethe with a kind of wild passion that threatens to burst into anarchy at any moment. It’s not exactly easy listening, of course, and the live performance is inevitably rough around the edges, but I think it’s a fascinating bit of jazz history. And, for what it’s worth, I think Bitches Brew is completely and utterly brilliant..
Follow @telescoperI don’t know why it’s taken me so long to get around the posting this piece, but I suppose it’s better late than never. It’s by the brilliant trio led by Paul Motian (drums) and featuring Joe Lovano on tenor sax with Bill Frisell on guitar. The album it’s taken from is called Trioism, which was recorded in 1993. I’ve picked this particular track to put up as a taster because it’s entitled Cosmology, which just happens to be my day job…
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In the Dark 