Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 21 (Andante)

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This chap might have had some time for John Barry.

I’m not so sure he would be so impressed by any of the “music” currently found in the UK chart. I’m not sure he would identify it as music at all.

Out of Place

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I decide on my article titles virtually instantaneously and for this one I thought “Out of Place”, which reminded me of the song by Gavin Thorpe, so I have included it here. He’s a singer from Bristol, a friend of the family. I am surprised he is not an international star yet, as he has all the same ingredients as James Blunt, Damien Rice et al.

The issue is that I like to dress smartly, avoid cliches when speaking and treat others with respect (which, of course, includes avoiding cliches when speaking). I am finding, however, that current society requires me to dumb down. Whereas it used to be unacceptable for a gentleman to be seen in the street without a hat, for example, it is now almost unacceptable for him to be seen with one (unless it is a cap of some sort, ideally associated with sports).

Even at age 21 I found myself a genuine old Bowler hat and wore it around Durham, risking ridicule. Now I often wear a Trilby – not perched on the back of my head as some kind of joke, but as it is supposed to be worn. I’ve had a Panama too. I like traditional style. I merely observe that sartorial values, like many others, have now become reversed. It is done for millionaires to dress in rags, so as to appear to be “one of the people”. “Don’t look too good”, as Kipling said. One cannot dress too badly, even for the Royal Opera House (I’ve been there) but one can dress too well, and sadly must always be on guard about this.

One can also talk too well, and this is a danger too in the age of reverse snobbery. Good diction, clear elocution (mine could use some more work) alienates others and is therefore a crime. It suggests you might think you’re superior (sin of sins). You might even be superior (in that regard at least), and that is frankly, utterly unacceptable in the egalitarian age. “Don’t talk too wise” as Kipling said too. You must dumb down.

Manners and family are the fabrics that hold society together. The family has largely disintegrated in the UK now, and a short walk through any part of London will demonstrate to you that manners have now largely evaporated too (the F-word is the word you are most likely to overhear).

What originally motivated this article was my intention to use “Dear Mr..” when replying to somebody in a work capacity, whom I have never met. It’s not done. I would like it to be done, but it isn’t. Likewise I am not keen when people whom I do not know (who are usually trying to sell me something) are over-familiar with me, addressing me with my first name. Once was the time when this was never done. It’s just a little sign of respect, politeness. One would address a stranger with their surname until familiarity was established.

“It doesn’t matter”, many a liberal would respond. But it really does. Little tears all over the fabric of society weaken it, until one day it might give way altogether. Thus I noticed that I, and my values, are out of place with what modern society has become.

Elgar: Nimrod from the Enigma Variations

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New Order: Bizarre Love Triangle

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Brings back memories.

Rossini: Matilde di Shabran

Rossini (like Donizetti) is often much underrated as an operatic composer. But behold this amazing piece as it build and builds, requiring immensely skilled singing by the performers as the tempo increases (it sounds almost like a tongue-twister) – yet they carry it off.

Click on the video for details of the piece and performance.

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An evening in central London

These days I spend most of my time either working or at the gym. I rarely listen to the radio, because Radio 4, the only station offering relatively intelligent programmes, is excruciatingly politically correct. The music on Radio 3 (especially late in the evening) often seems to consist of little more than dustbin lids being hit along with a triangle being pinged – this is endearing, in a sense, but becomes tiresome. Classic FM plays reliably good classical pieces, but is slightly dumbed down by some of its “celebrity DJs” and of course one has to tolerate the same, usually fatuous, adverts being played hour after hour, week after week. Fortunately there is Internet radio offering a multitude of channels from all over the world, free of charge with no adverts.

What of the television? I don’t watch that either. I don’t have a TV license, so I never pay the BBC anything and I don’t have to endure any television advertising at all. This brings great peace of mind. I do sometimes see cinema advertising however, and it is often especially insulting, with a predictably vulgar offering from that common brand French Connection being a memorable recent offender.

Again, many things worth watching can be watched on the Internet. I usually, in any case, find creating more satisfying than consuming, so none of these media are a great loss. The peace of mind brought about by avoiding cretinous advertising is alas soon unsettled, I have noticed, by even the briefest exposure to the general public during the average outing into central London. The most likely word you will overhear as you pass someone (probably smoking) on the pavement remains “f**k”. You need to check where you’re going to sit on the Underground as you get onto a train.

This evening my wife and I ate in a Mexican style restaurant on Leicester Square. We were treated to the usual customer service in any such place: nearly none – the polar opposite of American service. The food was okay, but the experience was ruined by the presence of a very self-centred girl sitting nearby who spoke very loudly about herself for the entire time (not an unusual phenomenon in London). By the end of our visit there (and we made haste to leave) we were acquainted with every tedious detail of her unremarkable life. So was everybody else nearby. In a case like this it’s hard to know what to do. If the person even sees you looking, this will likely feed their ego (they almost certainly misinterpret it as interest in them), which is of course the last thing you want to happen. If you get up and ask them to keep their voice down, well, you will likely receive a mouthful of abuse, they will complain to management and you will be asked to leave. If you complain to management, nothing will happen. We did complain: nothing happened. All you can do, really, is leave, and then proceed to face the same problem somewhere else. It doesn’t matter where any more – I’ve experienced inconsiderate behaviour everywhere from McDonald’s to top class hotels.

Following this experience we went along to the The Strand and decided to visit the Savoy hotel, where I had been before, and I was very surprised to see it has closed for a £100 million refurbishment. The rooms were rather shabby, it has to be said, though the reception and bar were nice. Thwarted, we headed over the road to the Strand Palace hotel, where I had not been since the age of 12. The bar here is nice enough, though rather bland and modern, I feel, for a hotel of this title in this area. It’s more like a conference room – and indeed much of the hotel’s business is probably corporate.

From here we made the short walk to the Adelphi Theatre to watch Love Never Dies, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s sequel to his Phantom of the Opera. I am not usually a musical-goer, but this musical has been getting a lot of fanatical reviews full of hatred, so I would like to say here that in my opinion it was excellent. All performances seemed to me flawless, there was not a slow moment during the story (which seemed credible as a sequel) and there were memorable melodies. There’s much more to say about it actually: the costumes were great and so were the sets and special effects. I was particularly impressed by how quickly they changed these elaborate sets – often within seconds. Don’t believe the bitter critics. The show received a standing ovation and for good reason.

We were sitting next to Lord Jeffrey Archer during the performance (he didn’t seem too impressed with the show) and on our way out stood next to none other than “SuBo” (Susan Boyle), who did seem impressed and was quickly ushered into a people carrier which whisked her away. SuBo, of course, has an excellent voice. Trust her, not the vitriolic critics, and go and enjoy Love Never Dies.

When we left the Adelphi we called into a nearby pub. Let’s just say we should have been able to judge the quality of the place from its sign: “Binge drinkers welcome”.

A wonderful moment

A wonderful moment in Spain featuring music from Verdi’s La Traviata…

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Strauss: Final Trio from Der Rosenkavalier

I recently saw Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier at the Royal Opera House here in London. It was a lavish production and a very enjoyable evening.

Strauss’ music often lacks any obvious motif or melody: being of the Germanic Romantic style it is very similar to Wagner’s. All is not lost, however, because this style of music meanders around, washes over you, and occasionally reaches great crescendos of considerable emotional intensity. One such moment is below.

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David Gray: Alibi

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So much for songs which make light of rehab.

Eudaimonia: Political Correctness is Killing Us All

This time last year I made a song capturing the zeitgeist of political correctness in the UK. Here it is.

A magnificent evening at the Cadogan Hall

Wagner’s Liebestod (“Love Death”) from Tristan & Isolde must surely be one of the most intense and profoundly moving pieces in the entire classical music reportoire. This evening I heard it performed live, along with Strauss’s Four Last Songs, which are also extremely beautiful (especially Im Abendrot), and Brahms’ Symphony No. 2.

I can’t say I have ever been to a performance quite like this evening’s. The Orion Orchestra, which performed conducted by Toby Purser, is comprised of young musicians who were highly competent. The sopranos (Alwyn Mellor and Susan Gritton) were experienced and absolutely excellent, both turning in flawless performances.

The Liebestod is a unique piece of music: powerful, meandering, haunting. It is like being carried by a sea – it lulls and soars. It is Wagner at his most epic, most tragic and – I think – most moving. I can’t show you film of this evening, so I have placed below an acclaimed performace by Birgit Nilsson instead.

It felt like something of an honour to be there this evening listening to this music and it will stay with me forever.

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Toby Keith: The Taliban Song

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Sisters of Mercy: Dominion

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Talk Talk: Life’s What You Make It

“Fate” is a notion propounded by cowards to in order to evade responsibility for their own lives.

Nice lyric

“If it’s so good in the city why don’t anybody smile?”

- Toby Keith – It Works for Me