The humble ukulele has undergone a renaissance in recent years, with its notable appearances including ‘Bang Goes the Knighthood’ by The Divine Comedy (reviewed here in June 2010), the eclectic music of Beirut (reviewed here in November 2006 and October 2007), the phenomenal posthumous success of the late Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole and the ubiquitous Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (reviewed here in July 2010). James Hill is a Canadian singer, songwriter and ukulele player and his latest album ‘Man with a Love Song’ is a lovely, varied set of songs – laid-back, gentle and playful tunes. James Hill also plays banjo and piano and is joined by the cellist Anne Davison. He uses the ukulele thoughtfully and sparingly: there is little of the clichéd frantic strumming here. And the pick of the tracks, for me, is the haunting, moving ballad ‘High Demand’ – a beautiful song.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
‘Man with a Love Song’ by James Hill
25 January 2012
The humble ukulele has undergone a renaissance in recent years, with its notable appearances including ‘Bang Goes the Knighthood’ by The Divine Comedy (reviewed here in June 2010), the eclectic music of Beirut (reviewed here in November 2006 and October 2007), the phenomenal posthumous success of the late Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole and the ubiquitous Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (reviewed here in July 2010). James Hill is a Canadian singer, songwriter and ukulele player and his latest album ‘Man with a Love Song’ is a lovely, varied set of songs – laid-back, gentle and playful tunes. James Hill also plays banjo and piano and is joined by the cellist Anne Davison. He uses the ukulele thoughtfully and sparingly: there is little of the clichéd frantic strumming here. And the pick of the tracks, for me, is the haunting, moving ballad ‘High Demand’ – a beautiful song.
The humble ukulele has undergone a renaissance in recent years, with its notable appearances including ‘Bang Goes the Knighthood’ by The Divine Comedy (reviewed here in June 2010), the eclectic music of Beirut (reviewed here in November 2006 and October 2007), the phenomenal posthumous success of the late Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole and the ubiquitous Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (reviewed here in July 2010). James Hill is a Canadian singer, songwriter and ukulele player and his latest album ‘Man with a Love Song’ is a lovely, varied set of songs – laid-back, gentle and playful tunes. James Hill also plays banjo and piano and is joined by the cellist Anne Davison. He uses the ukulele thoughtfully and sparingly: there is little of the clichéd frantic strumming here. And the pick of the tracks, for me, is the haunting, moving ballad ‘High Demand’ – a beautiful song.
Friday, January 20, 2012
'The Awakening'
20 January 2012
We made a rare trip to The Castle in Wellingborough last Saturday to see ‘The Awakening’, a British film that came out last November but had passed me by. It’s a ghost story, set just after the First World War at a boarding school in Cumbria where professional hoax exposer Florence Cathcart is called in to investigate the death of a boy who has apparently been scared to death. It’s a spooky tale, atmospherically filmed in a constantly gloomy light with muted colours, allowing half-seen images to lurk in the shadows. The most scary ghost films are those that don’t show too much but play upon the audience’s imagination. ‘The Awakening’ pulls off that classic trick of showing you a scene in which the heroine walks through a room without noticing anything unusual, while a ghostly figure appears very briefly in the background in a way that ensures all the audience see something but no-one is quite sure whether they really did. Rebecca Hall is great as Florence Cathcart, her rational determination gradually unwinding in the face of increasingly unexplainable happenings. And there is good support from Dominic West and Imelda Staunton. It’s a nicely made film that doesn’t outstay its welcome and confirms that there is nothing so scary as children!
We made a rare trip to The Castle in Wellingborough last Saturday to see ‘The Awakening’, a British film that came out last November but had passed me by. It’s a ghost story, set just after the First World War at a boarding school in Cumbria where professional hoax exposer Florence Cathcart is called in to investigate the death of a boy who has apparently been scared to death. It’s a spooky tale, atmospherically filmed in a constantly gloomy light with muted colours, allowing half-seen images to lurk in the shadows. The most scary ghost films are those that don’t show too much but play upon the audience’s imagination. ‘The Awakening’ pulls off that classic trick of showing you a scene in which the heroine walks through a room without noticing anything unusual, while a ghostly figure appears very briefly in the background in a way that ensures all the audience see something but no-one is quite sure whether they really did. Rebecca Hall is great as Florence Cathcart, her rational determination gradually unwinding in the face of increasingly unexplainable happenings. And there is good support from Dominic West and Imelda Staunton. It’s a nicely made film that doesn’t outstay its welcome and confirms that there is nothing so scary as children!
Friday, January 13, 2012
‘The House of Silk’ by Anthony Horowitz
13 January 2012
It’s been confusing, over the past couple of weeks, to be watching the excellent new series of ‘Sherlock’ by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss whilst I have also been reading ‘The House of Silk’ by Anthony Horowitz – the first new Sherlock Holmes novel to be officially approved by the Conan Doyle estate. Both are lovingly reverential to the original Sherlock Holmes stories and knowingly playful with the genre. In ‘The House of Silk’ (I read the unabridged audio version, read by Derek Jacobi) an elderly Dr Watson, living in a nursing home many years after Holmes himself has passed away, recounts one last case which he was unable to tell at the time it happened – and will be consigned to his solicitors' vaults for 100 years. All the familiar Holmesian elements are present – 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson, Inspector Lestrade, the pipe, the violin, the Baker Street Irregulars etc. There’s a wonderful laugh-out-loud encounter between Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes where they exchange a rapid series of elementary deductions about what they have each been up to since they last met – like an intellectual tennis match. The narrative style is faithful to Conan Doyle and Watson’s voice is completely recognisable. Watson himself comments on his tendency to preoccupy himself with plot and laments his inability to comment on the social conditions of Victorian London in the way Gissing or Dickens had. He then attempts the occasional foray into Dickensian description but Horowitz’s main focus is also on the puzzle of the case (or cases). It’s hard to know whether to criticise the occasional clumsiness of the writing or to attribute this to an accurate reproduction of Conan Doyle’s narrator but ‘The House of Silk’ works better as a thriller than a literary period piece. It’s a marvellously complex mystery: being much longer than Conan Doyle’s original stories allows the novel to weave an extensive web of plotlines, while the relentless pace of the adventure drives the confused reader continually onward. The trick of a Sherlock Holmes story is to leave the reader always slightly ahead of Watson but slightly behind Holmes – and Horowitz achieved this admirably as far as this reader was concerned. The novel builds to a truly thrilling conclusion – I was completely hooked.
It’s been confusing, over the past couple of weeks, to be watching the excellent new series of ‘Sherlock’ by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss whilst I have also been reading ‘The House of Silk’ by Anthony Horowitz – the first new Sherlock Holmes novel to be officially approved by the Conan Doyle estate. Both are lovingly reverential to the original Sherlock Holmes stories and knowingly playful with the genre. In ‘The House of Silk’ (I read the unabridged audio version, read by Derek Jacobi) an elderly Dr Watson, living in a nursing home many years after Holmes himself has passed away, recounts one last case which he was unable to tell at the time it happened – and will be consigned to his solicitors' vaults for 100 years. All the familiar Holmesian elements are present – 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson, Inspector Lestrade, the pipe, the violin, the Baker Street Irregulars etc. There’s a wonderful laugh-out-loud encounter between Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes where they exchange a rapid series of elementary deductions about what they have each been up to since they last met – like an intellectual tennis match. The narrative style is faithful to Conan Doyle and Watson’s voice is completely recognisable. Watson himself comments on his tendency to preoccupy himself with plot and laments his inability to comment on the social conditions of Victorian London in the way Gissing or Dickens had. He then attempts the occasional foray into Dickensian description but Horowitz’s main focus is also on the puzzle of the case (or cases). It’s hard to know whether to criticise the occasional clumsiness of the writing or to attribute this to an accurate reproduction of Conan Doyle’s narrator but ‘The House of Silk’ works better as a thriller than a literary period piece. It’s a marvellously complex mystery: being much longer than Conan Doyle’s original stories allows the novel to weave an extensive web of plotlines, while the relentless pace of the adventure drives the confused reader continually onward. The trick of a Sherlock Holmes story is to leave the reader always slightly ahead of Watson but slightly behind Holmes – and Horowitz achieved this admirably as far as this reader was concerned. The novel builds to a truly thrilling conclusion – I was completely hooked.
Thursday, January 05, 2012
‘You Can’t Take It With You’ by George S Kaufman and Moss Hart
5 January 2012
Last Friday we were at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester to see ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ by George S Kaufman and Moss Hart. This production by the Royal Exchange Theatre and Told By An Idiot of the 1936 Broadway comedy, was extremely silly, incredibly funny and joyously life-affirming: I loved it! Kaufman wrote for the Marx Brothers (including the screenplays for ‘A Night at the Opera’ and ‘A Day at the Races’) and ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ displays a similar zany humour. Set in New York in the 1930s, Alice Sycamore (played here by Sarah Ridgeway) brings her new boyfriend home to meet her eccentric family. Here the two lovers are the only ‘normal’ characters with everyone else slightly larger than life – the mother (played by Joanne Howarth) who has spent eight years trying to write a play, purely because eight years ago someone mistakenly delivered her a typewriter, the father (Sam Parks) who spends his days in the attics inventing fireworks, the sister (Sophie Russell) who wants to be a dancer and dances almost continuously around the house, the house guest (Martin Hyder) who arrived six years ago to deliver ice and never left and the grandfather (Christopher Benjamin) who decided that spending six hours a day doing something he didn’t enjoy in order to spend one hour doing the things he liked made no sense and so he stopped going to work or paying income tax. It was a wonderfully silly show, directed by Paul Hunter and making good use of the theatre-in-the-round setting. Everyone left with a smile on their faces.
Last Friday we were at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester to see ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ by George S Kaufman and Moss Hart. This production by the Royal Exchange Theatre and Told By An Idiot of the 1936 Broadway comedy, was extremely silly, incredibly funny and joyously life-affirming: I loved it! Kaufman wrote for the Marx Brothers (including the screenplays for ‘A Night at the Opera’ and ‘A Day at the Races’) and ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ displays a similar zany humour. Set in New York in the 1930s, Alice Sycamore (played here by Sarah Ridgeway) brings her new boyfriend home to meet her eccentric family. Here the two lovers are the only ‘normal’ characters with everyone else slightly larger than life – the mother (played by Joanne Howarth) who has spent eight years trying to write a play, purely because eight years ago someone mistakenly delivered her a typewriter, the father (Sam Parks) who spends his days in the attics inventing fireworks, the sister (Sophie Russell) who wants to be a dancer and dances almost continuously around the house, the house guest (Martin Hyder) who arrived six years ago to deliver ice and never left and the grandfather (Christopher Benjamin) who decided that spending six hours a day doing something he didn’t enjoy in order to spend one hour doing the things he liked made no sense and so he stopped going to work or paying income tax. It was a wonderfully silly show, directed by Paul Hunter and making good use of the theatre-in-the-round setting. Everyone left with a smile on their faces.
'The Ladykillers' by Graham Linehan
5 January 2012
Between Christmas and New Year we were at the Gielgud Theatre in London’s West End to see ‘The Ladykillers’ – a new stage version of the classic Ealing comedy, written by Graham Linehan and directed by Sean Foley. It was an all-star cast with Peter Capaldi, James Fleet, Ben Miller, Clive Rowe, Stephen Wight and the wonderful Marcia Warren as Mrs Wilberforce. But the clear star of the show was the amazing set by Michael Taylor. The whole inside of the house is laid out in exaggerated and eccentric angles and perspective – which reminded me of the Stephen Daldry version of ‘An Inspector Calls’ – and this is combined with a revolving stage to take us outside and show us the heist with a series of toy cars and a toy train. Graham Linehan says in the programme that he was influenced by Patrick Barlow’s stage adaptation of ‘The Thirty Nine Steps’ and this was certainly in a very similar style. There were some very funny moments – I loved the tableau of the six faces of the criminal gang crammed into a tiny cupboard – and it was a very enjoyable evening in the theatre but the performances were good rather than outstanding.
Between Christmas and New Year we were at the Gielgud Theatre in London’s West End to see ‘The Ladykillers’ – a new stage version of the classic Ealing comedy, written by Graham Linehan and directed by Sean Foley. It was an all-star cast with Peter Capaldi, James Fleet, Ben Miller, Clive Rowe, Stephen Wight and the wonderful Marcia Warren as Mrs Wilberforce. But the clear star of the show was the amazing set by Michael Taylor. The whole inside of the house is laid out in exaggerated and eccentric angles and perspective – which reminded me of the Stephen Daldry version of ‘An Inspector Calls’ – and this is combined with a revolving stage to take us outside and show us the heist with a series of toy cars and a toy train. Graham Linehan says in the programme that he was influenced by Patrick Barlow’s stage adaptation of ‘The Thirty Nine Steps’ and this was certainly in a very similar style. There were some very funny moments – I loved the tableau of the six faces of the criminal gang crammed into a tiny cupboard – and it was a very enjoyable evening in the theatre but the performances were good rather than outstanding.
'Measure for Measure' by William Shakespeare
5 January 2012
On Boxing Say we were at The Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘Measure for Measure’, directed by Roxana Silbert. I’ve seen the play before but this production held my attention better and I felt I properly appreciated it for the first time. Although technically one of Shakespeare’s ‘comedies’, ‘Measure for Measure’ is a dark play. It was good to see the comic moments brought out, without losing the seriousness of its themes. Raymond Coulthard was a mercurial Duke, with a twinkle in his eye, a tendency to break down the fourth wall and a fine line in conjuring tricks. Now that the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre echoes its thrust stage, the Swan, next door, feels very small. We were in the top gallery and could only see the stage by leaning uncomfortably forward. But the quality of the acting overcame these practical annoyances and it was an impressive production.
On Boxing Say we were at The Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘Measure for Measure’, directed by Roxana Silbert. I’ve seen the play before but this production held my attention better and I felt I properly appreciated it for the first time. Although technically one of Shakespeare’s ‘comedies’, ‘Measure for Measure’ is a dark play. It was good to see the comic moments brought out, without losing the seriousness of its themes. Raymond Coulthard was a mercurial Duke, with a twinkle in his eye, a tendency to break down the fourth wall and a fine line in conjuring tricks. Now that the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre echoes its thrust stage, the Swan, next door, feels very small. We were in the top gallery and could only see the stage by leaning uncomfortably forward. But the quality of the acting overcame these practical annoyances and it was an impressive production.
‘The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
5 January 2012
I’ve just finished reading ‘The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, as an unabridged audio book translated by John Ormsby, revised, updated and read by Roy McMillan. It’s a massive book – the audio version lasts 36 hours – and I’m afraid it did feel very long. Everyone knows about ‘Don Quixote’ but it was an interesting experience actually reading it. At first it is hard to know how to take it: on the surface Cervantes is clearly parodying a particular style of chivalrous tale of knights of old, but the stories being parodied are now unfamiliar, so the tales of Don Quixote’s mistaken skirmishes with windmills and the like appear to us a simple child-like slapstick. This cartoon narrative is funny but doesn’t seem sophisticated enough to hold your attention over such a long novel. But then you gradually begin to see something cleverer going on in the way the story is told and, in particular, the question of who is telling the story. We appear to be in the hands of an omniscient narrator who knows all that befell Don Quixote and his trusty squire Sancho Panza, even when there was clearly no-one else present. But then there are references to the different versions of Don Quixote’s story, suggesting that he has been written about by many authors and his exploits have become the stuff of legend. ‘Don Quixote’ was published by Cervantes in two volumes, in 1605 and 1615, and in the second part the knight and his squire frequently encounter people who have read the earlier volume and are familiar with their history. This must be one of the earliest examples of meta-fiction and Cervantes proceeds to have lots of fun with the premise: the author himself points out inconsistencies in earlier chapters where, for example, Sancho Panza’s ass is stolen in one scene but he is then described as riding it again in the next. We are told that the author of this account of the Don’s life wrote it in Arabic and that it was then translated into Spanish. The narrator then interjects with comments about the original Arabic author and also about the translator – so who is making these comments? This becomes a very clever, entertaining and rewarding exercise in narrative style. The other thing that Cervantes does very impressively is to construct two classic comic characters, whose influence can be seen to the present day. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are both deluded simpletons but with their own serious and consistent logic. I worried at first that we were simply being invited to laugh at Don Quixote’s mental illness as he mistakes an inn for a castle or windmills for giants, and even when these obvious mistakes are pointed out to him he excuses them by claiming he has been enchanted by evil forces. But there is much emphasis on the way in which Don Quixote is actually very sensible and logical on every topic except that of knights errant as he has been corrupted by reading too many chivalrous tales. And gradually you realise that Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are wonderfully drawn characters with their own internal logic – exaggerated cartoon creations placed in an otherwise real-world setting. Though set in a different continent at a different time, their picaresque adventures reminded me of the Coen Brothers film ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou’ – itself a loose version of Homer’s ‘The Odyssey’. Cleverly, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza can both see through many of each other’s delusions, while remaining blissfully unaware of their own shortcomings. These are comic simpletons with a serious approach to life – like Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise or Alan Partridge. I enjoyed reading ‘Don Quixote’: it is too long but you can see why it became so revered and how influential it has been and I will miss The Knight of the Rueful Countenance and his loyal companion with whom I have travelled so far.
I’ve just finished reading ‘The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, as an unabridged audio book translated by John Ormsby, revised, updated and read by Roy McMillan. It’s a massive book – the audio version lasts 36 hours – and I’m afraid it did feel very long. Everyone knows about ‘Don Quixote’ but it was an interesting experience actually reading it. At first it is hard to know how to take it: on the surface Cervantes is clearly parodying a particular style of chivalrous tale of knights of old, but the stories being parodied are now unfamiliar, so the tales of Don Quixote’s mistaken skirmishes with windmills and the like appear to us a simple child-like slapstick. This cartoon narrative is funny but doesn’t seem sophisticated enough to hold your attention over such a long novel. But then you gradually begin to see something cleverer going on in the way the story is told and, in particular, the question of who is telling the story. We appear to be in the hands of an omniscient narrator who knows all that befell Don Quixote and his trusty squire Sancho Panza, even when there was clearly no-one else present. But then there are references to the different versions of Don Quixote’s story, suggesting that he has been written about by many authors and his exploits have become the stuff of legend. ‘Don Quixote’ was published by Cervantes in two volumes, in 1605 and 1615, and in the second part the knight and his squire frequently encounter people who have read the earlier volume and are familiar with their history. This must be one of the earliest examples of meta-fiction and Cervantes proceeds to have lots of fun with the premise: the author himself points out inconsistencies in earlier chapters where, for example, Sancho Panza’s ass is stolen in one scene but he is then described as riding it again in the next. We are told that the author of this account of the Don’s life wrote it in Arabic and that it was then translated into Spanish. The narrator then interjects with comments about the original Arabic author and also about the translator – so who is making these comments? This becomes a very clever, entertaining and rewarding exercise in narrative style. The other thing that Cervantes does very impressively is to construct two classic comic characters, whose influence can be seen to the present day. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are both deluded simpletons but with their own serious and consistent logic. I worried at first that we were simply being invited to laugh at Don Quixote’s mental illness as he mistakes an inn for a castle or windmills for giants, and even when these obvious mistakes are pointed out to him he excuses them by claiming he has been enchanted by evil forces. But there is much emphasis on the way in which Don Quixote is actually very sensible and logical on every topic except that of knights errant as he has been corrupted by reading too many chivalrous tales. And gradually you realise that Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are wonderfully drawn characters with their own internal logic – exaggerated cartoon creations placed in an otherwise real-world setting. Though set in a different continent at a different time, their picaresque adventures reminded me of the Coen Brothers film ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou’ – itself a loose version of Homer’s ‘The Odyssey’. Cleverly, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza can both see through many of each other’s delusions, while remaining blissfully unaware of their own shortcomings. These are comic simpletons with a serious approach to life – like Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise or Alan Partridge. I enjoyed reading ‘Don Quixote’: it is too long but you can see why it became so revered and how influential it has been and I will miss The Knight of the Rueful Countenance and his loyal companion with whom I have travelled so far.
Lea Singers Concert
5 January 2012
I can think of few better ways to start the Christmas break
than by attending the Lea Singers Charity Christmas Concert, ‘MerryLea’. On 22
December we were back at the Harpenden Public Halls to see this excellent
chamber choir entertain us with a festive programme ranging from medieval to
modern. Each of Poulenc’s beautiful ‘Four Christmas Motets’ were paired with settings
of the same words some 400 years earlier by Palestrina, Orlando Lassus and
William Byrd. I also very much enjoyed a modern South African Christmas Anthem by
Grant McLachlan, ‘Come Colours Rise’. It was great to see a packed audience helping
to raise funds for the Grove House hospice charity and singing the carols enthusiastically
and impressively.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert
14 December 2011
Another vital component for bringing on the festive mood is the annual Christmas Cracker concert by the Northampton Symphony Orchestra. On Sunday we were back at the Spinney Theatre in Northampton for an afternoon of carols and other Christmas music. I haven’t seen the 2004 animated film ‘The Polar Express’ but the music by Alan Silvestri (who also wrote the score for ‘Back to the Future’) is a brilliantly nostalgic evocation of Christmas. Somehow I have also missed seeing that perennial favourite ‘The Snowman’ so it was fun to discover the story for the first time by playing Howard Blake’s music with narration by our excellent compere Graham Padden and members of the Northamptonshire County Boys’ Choir singing ‘Walking in the Air’. We finished the concert with Tchaikovsky’s ‘Suite from the Ballet Nutcracker’ (including a stunning performance at the beginning of ‘The Waltz of the Flowers’ by harpist Federica Mossone) and, with the scent of mulled wine and mince pies heavy in the air, you could hardly get more Christmassy.
Another vital component for bringing on the festive mood is the annual Christmas Cracker concert by the Northampton Symphony Orchestra. On Sunday we were back at the Spinney Theatre in Northampton for an afternoon of carols and other Christmas music. I haven’t seen the 2004 animated film ‘The Polar Express’ but the music by Alan Silvestri (who also wrote the score for ‘Back to the Future’) is a brilliantly nostalgic evocation of Christmas. Somehow I have also missed seeing that perennial favourite ‘The Snowman’ so it was fun to discover the story for the first time by playing Howard Blake’s music with narration by our excellent compere Graham Padden and members of the Northamptonshire County Boys’ Choir singing ‘Walking in the Air’. We finished the concert with Tchaikovsky’s ‘Suite from the Ballet Nutcracker’ (including a stunning performance at the beginning of ‘The Waltz of the Flowers’ by harpist Federica Mossone) and, with the scent of mulled wine and mince pies heavy in the air, you could hardly get more Christmassy.
'Cinderella' by Sue Sachon
14 December 2011
Christmas is coming and there is no better way to start the festive period than with a visit to Toddington to see the excellent TADS pantomime. On Saturday were back at the tiny TADS theatre to see ‘Cinderella’ – a new version written by TADS member Sue Sachon. This was a very traditional pantomime, wonderfully delivered. Perhaps a little less inventive than last years’ ‘The Pirate Princess’ (reviewed here in December 2010) but great fun. ‘Cinderella’ featured a cast of fifteen actors, all of whom were strong. I think the highlight was Lea Pryer and Janet Bray as the comic crooks ‘Bob Down’ and ‘Sid Out’: their rendition of ‘Money Makes the World Go Round’ was a showstopper. But they only narrowly beat the performance of “U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi, you're ugly!” by Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters and Stepmother. Very few of the cast were not playing the opposite gender, but amongst the usual comic drag performances, James Sygrove – as the wicked Stepmother, Cleptomania – took the whole thing to a different level (and not just because of the height of his heels!) with an impressive and disturbing portrayal that suggested he might have pursued a successful career as a female impersonator.
Christmas is coming and there is no better way to start the festive period than with a visit to Toddington to see the excellent TADS pantomime. On Saturday were back at the tiny TADS theatre to see ‘Cinderella’ – a new version written by TADS member Sue Sachon. This was a very traditional pantomime, wonderfully delivered. Perhaps a little less inventive than last years’ ‘The Pirate Princess’ (reviewed here in December 2010) but great fun. ‘Cinderella’ featured a cast of fifteen actors, all of whom were strong. I think the highlight was Lea Pryer and Janet Bray as the comic crooks ‘Bob Down’ and ‘Sid Out’: their rendition of ‘Money Makes the World Go Round’ was a showstopper. But they only narrowly beat the performance of “U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi, you're ugly!” by Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters and Stepmother. Very few of the cast were not playing the opposite gender, but amongst the usual comic drag performances, James Sygrove – as the wicked Stepmother, Cleptomania – took the whole thing to a different level (and not just because of the height of his heels!) with an impressive and disturbing portrayal that suggested he might have pursued a successful career as a female impersonator.
Friday, December 09, 2011
'Henry V' by William Shakespeare
9 December 2011
On Saturday we were at Milton Keynes Theatre to see the Propeller production of Henry V. Propeller is an all-male Shakespeare company, led by Edward Hall. This was a very muscular account of this most masculine of Shakespeare’s plays which did its best to bring home the realities of war in a contemporary context. With members of the cast, in army fatigues and balaclavas, patrolling the auditorium before the start of the play, we felt very much part of the theatre of war. This was very deliberately an ensemble piece with no real stars but high quality acting throughout the cast. In this production The Chorus truly was a chorus, with its words passed between all the actors in turn. For me, the downside of this emphasis on the ensemble was that the King was not the strongest of the actors on the stage and was sometimes a little difficult to hear – particularly in the big set piece speeches where his admirable striving for realism rather than Olivier-style acting left his fast speaking occasionally drowned by music or sound effects. The music was impressive, with some fine singing by the cast and good use of (relatively recent) rock and pop to stress the contemporary setting. We were also treated to more songs in the foyer during the interval where some of the actors performed to raise funds for a respite care charity: they have collected more than £5,000 so far on their tour, which only started in November. I really enjoyed the show: Propeller made it an engaging and entertaining tale which kept my attention throughout. Henry V is not Shakespeare’s best plot (it’s mostly one battle after another with a few short pauses in between) but I was reminded of its crucial significance as a pivot between the other history plays. So many of the nuances are much more poignant if you are familiar with the two Henry IV plays. On the night before Agincourt, Henry V worries that he may be doomed to atone for his father’s sin in deposing Richard II. And this play finishes with The Chorus foretelling the failures of Henry VI and the onset of the Wars of the Roses.
On Saturday we were at Milton Keynes Theatre to see the Propeller production of Henry V. Propeller is an all-male Shakespeare company, led by Edward Hall. This was a very muscular account of this most masculine of Shakespeare’s plays which did its best to bring home the realities of war in a contemporary context. With members of the cast, in army fatigues and balaclavas, patrolling the auditorium before the start of the play, we felt very much part of the theatre of war. This was very deliberately an ensemble piece with no real stars but high quality acting throughout the cast. In this production The Chorus truly was a chorus, with its words passed between all the actors in turn. For me, the downside of this emphasis on the ensemble was that the King was not the strongest of the actors on the stage and was sometimes a little difficult to hear – particularly in the big set piece speeches where his admirable striving for realism rather than Olivier-style acting left his fast speaking occasionally drowned by music or sound effects. The music was impressive, with some fine singing by the cast and good use of (relatively recent) rock and pop to stress the contemporary setting. We were also treated to more songs in the foyer during the interval where some of the actors performed to raise funds for a respite care charity: they have collected more than £5,000 so far on their tour, which only started in November. I really enjoyed the show: Propeller made it an engaging and entertaining tale which kept my attention throughout. Henry V is not Shakespeare’s best plot (it’s mostly one battle after another with a few short pauses in between) but I was reminded of its crucial significance as a pivot between the other history plays. So many of the nuances are much more poignant if you are familiar with the two Henry IV plays. On the night before Agincourt, Henry V worries that he may be doomed to atone for his father’s sin in deposing Richard II. And this play finishes with The Chorus foretelling the failures of Henry VI and the onset of the Wars of the Roses.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
'The Killing (Forbrydelsen)' by Søren Sveistrup
1 December 2011
She's back! How wonderful to be back in Copenhagen with Sarah Lund for the second series of the Danish TV series 'The Killing' (Forbrydelsen). If you missed the amazing first series and are still wondering what all the fuss was about I would recommend leaping straight into 'The Killing II'. The new series is a completely separate story with an almost entirely new cast of characters and you really don't have to have watched the original to enjoy it. 'The Killing' is a police procedural thriller serial set in Copenhagen. What makes it special is the quality of the plot (written by Søren Sveistrup), the acting and the length of the story. The first series consisted of 20 hour-long episodes, each representing one day in the investigation of a single crime. The luxury of having 20 hours to explore the characters of the various suspects and their investigators allowed a depth you rarely see in TV detective dramas. (If 20 episodes seems a bit daunting, the second series is only 10 hours long!) And don't be put off by the fact that 'The Killing' is in Danish with English subtitles: like all the best foreign dramas it's so good that, afterwards, you will struggle to remember that it was subtitled. Although 'The Killing' shows us events from the viewpoints of all the main protagonists, it is always careful never to reveal anything to the viewer that the police don't know - so you have the same opportunity to work out what happened as those investigating. To make the plot last for so many episodes there are, inevitably, a series of red herrings. But each innocent suspect, for whom there appears to be compelling evidence of guilt, turns out to have an extremely plausible explanation for their suspicious behaviour. This is a very sobering lesson in how easy it is to convince yourself that someone must be the murderer on purely circumstantial evidence. Both series feature a strong political subplot and the power games between the politicians, the media and the police form a fascinating backdrop. But the heart of 'The Killing' is police officer Sarah Lund played by Sofie Gråbøl as a very believable human being. Lund's very gradual descent into instability, driven by her obsession with solving the murder of Nana Birk Larsen was so carefully portrayed that the disastrous consequences of her actions took us as much by surprise as they did her. Sarah Lund is a very cleverly drawn character: her colleagues (and us viewers) feel she is able to spot things that the other police miss - she seems to have an extra level of intuition. But she is a real, believable character, not an infallible Sherlock Holmes: she doesn't have special powers and her hunches often prove to be misguided. This creates a peculiar fascination in the viewer: you are rooting for Sarah and urging her colleagues to listen to her while simultaneously worrying that she might be going down completely the wrong path. It's brilliantly done. 'The Killing II' is on BBC4 on Saturday evenings but don't worry if you've missed the first few episodes: the whole series will also be available on BBC iPlayer until 24 December. (And I haven't even mentioned the jumpers!)
She's back! How wonderful to be back in Copenhagen with Sarah Lund for the second series of the Danish TV series 'The Killing' (Forbrydelsen). If you missed the amazing first series and are still wondering what all the fuss was about I would recommend leaping straight into 'The Killing II'. The new series is a completely separate story with an almost entirely new cast of characters and you really don't have to have watched the original to enjoy it. 'The Killing' is a police procedural thriller serial set in Copenhagen. What makes it special is the quality of the plot (written by Søren Sveistrup), the acting and the length of the story. The first series consisted of 20 hour-long episodes, each representing one day in the investigation of a single crime. The luxury of having 20 hours to explore the characters of the various suspects and their investigators allowed a depth you rarely see in TV detective dramas. (If 20 episodes seems a bit daunting, the second series is only 10 hours long!) And don't be put off by the fact that 'The Killing' is in Danish with English subtitles: like all the best foreign dramas it's so good that, afterwards, you will struggle to remember that it was subtitled. Although 'The Killing' shows us events from the viewpoints of all the main protagonists, it is always careful never to reveal anything to the viewer that the police don't know - so you have the same opportunity to work out what happened as those investigating. To make the plot last for so many episodes there are, inevitably, a series of red herrings. But each innocent suspect, for whom there appears to be compelling evidence of guilt, turns out to have an extremely plausible explanation for their suspicious behaviour. This is a very sobering lesson in how easy it is to convince yourself that someone must be the murderer on purely circumstantial evidence. Both series feature a strong political subplot and the power games between the politicians, the media and the police form a fascinating backdrop. But the heart of 'The Killing' is police officer Sarah Lund played by Sofie Gråbøl as a very believable human being. Lund's very gradual descent into instability, driven by her obsession with solving the murder of Nana Birk Larsen was so carefully portrayed that the disastrous consequences of her actions took us as much by surprise as they did her. Sarah Lund is a very cleverly drawn character: her colleagues (and us viewers) feel she is able to spot things that the other police miss - she seems to have an extra level of intuition. But she is a real, believable character, not an infallible Sherlock Holmes: she doesn't have special powers and her hunches often prove to be misguided. This creates a peculiar fascination in the viewer: you are rooting for Sarah and urging her colleagues to listen to her while simultaneously worrying that she might be going down completely the wrong path. It's brilliantly done. 'The Killing II' is on BBC4 on Saturday evenings but don't worry if you've missed the first few episodes: the whole series will also be available on BBC iPlayer until 24 December. (And I haven't even mentioned the jumpers!)
Friday, November 25, 2011
’50 Words for Snow’ by Kate Bush
25 November 2011
It’s hard to think of any other serious musician whose reputation could not only survive but appear to have been enhanced by an Elvis impression, a washing-machine fixation and a duet with Rolf Harris (all on her 2005 album, ‘Aerial’). Those of us who grew up fascinated by Kate Bush’s voice would probably be happy to listen to her reading the telephone directory. We get close to this on her new album but, unfortunately, it is Stephen Fry’s voice, rather than Kate Bush herself, that is given the task of reverentially intoning 50 (made-up) Words for Snow to Bush’s musical encouragement on the title track. ’50 Words for Snow’ is a quiet, contemplative collection of songs, mostly accompanied by gentle piano chords. It’s a beautiful work, despite continuing to sail mischievously close to self-parody (including a sexual encounter with a snowman!). Kate Bush’s celebrity pulling power seems stronger even than that of Ricky Gervais, with Elton John the guest vocalist on ‘Snowed in at Wheeler Street’. Much as I have been enjoying ‘Ceremonials’, the new album from Florence + The Machine, which sounds a lot like Kate Bush in rock-mode (I particularly like the opening track ‘Only If For A Night’ with its bell-ringing descending scales), it is no substitute for the real thing. More please!
It’s hard to think of any other serious musician whose reputation could not only survive but appear to have been enhanced by an Elvis impression, a washing-machine fixation and a duet with Rolf Harris (all on her 2005 album, ‘Aerial’). Those of us who grew up fascinated by Kate Bush’s voice would probably be happy to listen to her reading the telephone directory. We get close to this on her new album but, unfortunately, it is Stephen Fry’s voice, rather than Kate Bush herself, that is given the task of reverentially intoning 50 (made-up) Words for Snow to Bush’s musical encouragement on the title track. ’50 Words for Snow’ is a quiet, contemplative collection of songs, mostly accompanied by gentle piano chords. It’s a beautiful work, despite continuing to sail mischievously close to self-parody (including a sexual encounter with a snowman!). Kate Bush’s celebrity pulling power seems stronger even than that of Ricky Gervais, with Elton John the guest vocalist on ‘Snowed in at Wheeler Street’. Much as I have been enjoying ‘Ceremonials’, the new album from Florence + The Machine, which sounds a lot like Kate Bush in rock-mode (I particularly like the opening track ‘Only If For A Night’ with its bell-ringing descending scales), it is no substitute for the real thing. More please!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert
15 November 2011
Having been practising Mahler’s 6th Symphony almost every day since early August, it feels very strange now that our performance has been and gone. In the last few days leading up to Saturday’s Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert I found myself increasingly paranoid that I was going to trip and bang my lip or fall prey to some other mishap that would prevent me from playing the 1st Horn part. In the event I made it to the concert intact and I think it all went incredibly well – though it’s very hard to judge when you are in the middle of it. I know there were no major disasters – we didn’t have to stop and start again and I don’t think I missed any of my solo passages. Having worked so hard on my stamina I was pleased to get through the 80 minutes of the symphony and still to be able to hit the high notes towards the end. But even though I had ensured I was physically capable of playing my part, it’s amazing what an effect nerves can have. As you approach a delicate solo you become more and more aware of how fleeting the opportunity is to get it right. You are thinking how many times you have played the phrase perfectly over the past few months and how awful it would be if something went wrong in the one brief chance you have to play it for real in the performance. These mind games are pernicious: even half-way through a solo there’s a danger that you think to yourself “actually this seems to be going okay”, only to distract yourself and fall apart. It’s an incredibly draining challenge of physical stamina, mental strength and concentration. I’m sure our performance was by no means perfect but Mahler 6 was a fantastically ambitious undertaking and I think we managed to present a very reasonable account of it, which included some truly exquisite moments. It was certainly incredibly loud, with an enlarged orchestra, including a massive brass section, creating a deafening climax. It was wonderful to have eight excellent horn players alongside me and I think we made quite an impressive section. The show was somewhat stolen, however, by the ‘Mahler box’ constructed specially for the occasion by Nick Bunker. The final movement of the symphony (which lasts a mammoth 30 minutes on its own) is punctuated by three massive hammer blows of fate. Mahler specified that these hammer blows should be "brief and mighty, but dull in resonance and with a non-metallic character (like the fall of an axe)”. For our performance Nick made a large wooden cube which was struck, by percussionist Keith Crompton, using a heavy log attached to a long broom handle. It created an amazing sound – and resulted in the violinists sitting immediately in front of it jumping several feet in the air each time it was struck! There is quite a good example of a similar realisation of the hammer blow at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwljE3HsfSM and you can see our Mahler box at http://culturaloutlook.blogspot.com/2011/11/our-mahler-box.html. The first half of our concert saw an excellent performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto by Charlotte Skinner who was confident, assured and lyrical. As I wasn’t playing in the concerto, sitting at the back of the audience to watch it was a relaxing way to prepare for the daunting challenge of the symphony. By the end of the concert I was exhilarated, proud, relieved and totally shattered. I’ve really enjoyed the experience of playing Mahler 6 but I’m pleased it’s now over and I’m looking forward to playing something slightly less demanding next!
Having been practising Mahler’s 6th Symphony almost every day since early August, it feels very strange now that our performance has been and gone. In the last few days leading up to Saturday’s Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert I found myself increasingly paranoid that I was going to trip and bang my lip or fall prey to some other mishap that would prevent me from playing the 1st Horn part. In the event I made it to the concert intact and I think it all went incredibly well – though it’s very hard to judge when you are in the middle of it. I know there were no major disasters – we didn’t have to stop and start again and I don’t think I missed any of my solo passages. Having worked so hard on my stamina I was pleased to get through the 80 minutes of the symphony and still to be able to hit the high notes towards the end. But even though I had ensured I was physically capable of playing my part, it’s amazing what an effect nerves can have. As you approach a delicate solo you become more and more aware of how fleeting the opportunity is to get it right. You are thinking how many times you have played the phrase perfectly over the past few months and how awful it would be if something went wrong in the one brief chance you have to play it for real in the performance. These mind games are pernicious: even half-way through a solo there’s a danger that you think to yourself “actually this seems to be going okay”, only to distract yourself and fall apart. It’s an incredibly draining challenge of physical stamina, mental strength and concentration. I’m sure our performance was by no means perfect but Mahler 6 was a fantastically ambitious undertaking and I think we managed to present a very reasonable account of it, which included some truly exquisite moments. It was certainly incredibly loud, with an enlarged orchestra, including a massive brass section, creating a deafening climax. It was wonderful to have eight excellent horn players alongside me and I think we made quite an impressive section. The show was somewhat stolen, however, by the ‘Mahler box’ constructed specially for the occasion by Nick Bunker. The final movement of the symphony (which lasts a mammoth 30 minutes on its own) is punctuated by three massive hammer blows of fate. Mahler specified that these hammer blows should be "brief and mighty, but dull in resonance and with a non-metallic character (like the fall of an axe)”. For our performance Nick made a large wooden cube which was struck, by percussionist Keith Crompton, using a heavy log attached to a long broom handle. It created an amazing sound – and resulted in the violinists sitting immediately in front of it jumping several feet in the air each time it was struck! There is quite a good example of a similar realisation of the hammer blow at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwljE3HsfSM and you can see our Mahler box at http://culturaloutlook.blogspot.com/2011/11/our-mahler-box.html. The first half of our concert saw an excellent performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto by Charlotte Skinner who was confident, assured and lyrical. As I wasn’t playing in the concerto, sitting at the back of the audience to watch it was a relaxing way to prepare for the daunting challenge of the symphony. By the end of the concert I was exhilarated, proud, relieved and totally shattered. I’ve really enjoyed the experience of playing Mahler 6 but I’m pleased it’s now over and I’m looking forward to playing something slightly less demanding next!
'La Bohème' by Giacomo Puccini
15 November 2011
We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Friday to see the Glyndebourne on Tour production of La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini. This was the first Puccini opera I had seen and the music was wonderful – sumptuous, romantic, beautiful and, yes, sentimental – but none the worse for it. This revival of the 2000 Glyndebourne on Tour production, directed by David McVicar, is set in a grittily contemporary Paris, with an uncompromisingly urban set designed by Michael Vale. The grotty flat in which the four young men live looked strangely familiar – and when they are visited by their landlord in search of his rent I realised that we were watching an episode of ‘The Young Ones’, albeit with better singing! Writing in the programme, Nicholas Payne, suggested that ‘La Bohème’ is the perfect length. He says that “Puccini, and his librettists, Giuseppe Giacoso and Luigi Illica struggled for three years to find a coherent shape for their incidents chosen from Henri Murger’s novel ‘Scènes de la vie de bohème’” and that “with hindsight we can appreciate that it was Puccini’s pernicketiness which forged that unique mixture of the conversational and the lyrical that is the opera’s trademark”. I would agree that the opera does not overstay its welcome but it seemed to me that, by cherry-picking a number of incidents from the novel, the plot felt oddly unbalanced and disjointed. There are moments of great comedy that sit uneasily against the final angst and tragedy. And it seems a great shame to have constructed such a wonderful set-piece second act (in the Café Momus) which makes great use of a massive chorus and finishes with the show-stealing aria ‘Quando me’n vo’ soletta’ (gorgeously sung by Natasha Jouhl as Musetta in this production) only for the chorus to completely disappear as the opera moves to its bleak finale. Nevertheless the music was wonderful and the singing and playing (conducted by Jeremy Bines) was excellent.
We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Friday to see the Glyndebourne on Tour production of La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini. This was the first Puccini opera I had seen and the music was wonderful – sumptuous, romantic, beautiful and, yes, sentimental – but none the worse for it. This revival of the 2000 Glyndebourne on Tour production, directed by David McVicar, is set in a grittily contemporary Paris, with an uncompromisingly urban set designed by Michael Vale. The grotty flat in which the four young men live looked strangely familiar – and when they are visited by their landlord in search of his rent I realised that we were watching an episode of ‘The Young Ones’, albeit with better singing! Writing in the programme, Nicholas Payne, suggested that ‘La Bohème’ is the perfect length. He says that “Puccini, and his librettists, Giuseppe Giacoso and Luigi Illica struggled for three years to find a coherent shape for their incidents chosen from Henri Murger’s novel ‘Scènes de la vie de bohème’” and that “with hindsight we can appreciate that it was Puccini’s pernicketiness which forged that unique mixture of the conversational and the lyrical that is the opera’s trademark”. I would agree that the opera does not overstay its welcome but it seemed to me that, by cherry-picking a number of incidents from the novel, the plot felt oddly unbalanced and disjointed. There are moments of great comedy that sit uneasily against the final angst and tragedy. And it seems a great shame to have constructed such a wonderful set-piece second act (in the Café Momus) which makes great use of a massive chorus and finishes with the show-stealing aria ‘Quando me’n vo’ soletta’ (gorgeously sung by Natasha Jouhl as Musetta in this production) only for the chorus to completely disappear as the opera moves to its bleak finale. Nevertheless the music was wonderful and the singing and playing (conducted by Jeremy Bines) was excellent.
Friday, November 11, 2011
'The Go-Between' by David Wood and Richard Taylor, based on the novel by L P Hartley
11 November 2011
"The past is a foreign country: they
do things differently there". I had heard of ‘The Go-Between’ by L P
Hartley but I haven’t read the book or seen the 1970 film adaptation by Harold
Pinter and, before going to see the new stage version at the Royal & Derngate
in Northampton last week, I didn’t really know what it was about. Published in
1953, the novel describes Leo Colston looking back, in 1950, to his childhood
experiences as the house guest of a wealthy family in Norfolk in the summer of
1900. His boyhood role as ‘postman’, passing messages between two illicit
lovers, leads to a devastating conclusion that affected him for the rest of his
life. The stage version, by David Wood with music by Richard Taylor, turns the
story into a serious musical, almost sung-through, reminding me of Sondheim and
not far from contemporary opera. The production, directed by Roger Haines, was a
collaboration between the Royal & Derngate, Derby Live and West Yorkshire
Playhouse and it was excellent. The cast were all strong and the singing was
very impressive but the show was stolen by the two local boys, Adam Bradbury as
Marcus and particularly William Miles as Leo who was on stage almost
constantly. The story was carefully and effectively told in a very theatrical
style which left much to the imagination. I particularly enjoyed James Staddon
as the older Leo, shadowing the actions of his younger self while watching from
the back of the stage. The music was provided by an onstage grand piano played
by Musical Director Jonathan Gill. It was an entertaining, moving and extremely
high-quality evening in the theatre.
Friday, November 04, 2011
'Symphony No 6' by Gustav Mahler
4 November 2011
Mahler’s 6th Symphony is a mammoth work: it lasts 80 minutes and requires an orchestra of nearly 100 players. Rather than the usual 4 French horns, there are 8 horns and the 1st horn part is fiendishly difficult. In most orchestral works, as a horn player you can expect to spend a fair amount of time counting the rests before you next come in but in Mahler 6 the 1st horn barely has more than a few seconds break in the whole piece. There are pages and pages of extremely high and loud notes, interspersed with plenty of delicate, exposed solos. When the Northampton Symphony Orchestra decided to take on the gargantuan challenge of performing the 6th Symphony it was in the knowledge that the daunting 1st horn part would be in the safe hands of our excellent principal horn player, David Lack. When it became clear that Dave was sadly going to miss the concert through illness, I was persuaded to step up to the challenge. Tackling this incredible work is a very exciting opportunity but one that I would much rather have had in different circumstances. The symphony has been dominating my life for the past 3 months. Since 7 August, apart from a week in Paris, a week in Northumberland and the occasional night away for work, I have played at least one movement of the work every day. Wary of the need to build my stamina, every Saturday and Sunday I have tried to play through all four movements without stopping. Finding 80 minutes to sit down and practice has been hard enough but the physical endurance necessary to play all the way through the symphony took some weeks to build up. Fortunately I won’t need to play every single note in the performance. It’s common practice in larger orchestral works to have an additional horn player ‘bumping’ the first horn part, ie doubling the first horn to allow the principal horn player to save himself for the solo passages, and I know I’m going to need this. I now know Mahler’s 6th Symphony intimately: it seems to be playing in my head most of the time at the moment. I like to practice by playing along with recordings and thanks to Spotify I’ve been working through heaps of different recordings (Sir Simon Rattle’s interpretation seems to be the slowest, Leonard Bernstein’s definitely the fastest, but I think my favourite is Claudio Abbado with the Berlin Philharmonic). At this Wednesday’s rehearsal we had all 9 horn players together for the first time – boy, it’s going to be loud! It’s an incredible work – passionate, playful, sentimental, brutal, triumphant and tragic, with lots of cowbells. If you are anywhere remotely within range of Northampton next Saturday, 12 November, please do join us for what promises to be an amazing concert – also including the lovely Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, played by Charlotte Skinner. Full details and tickets available from http://www.nso.org.uk/ – wish me luck!
Mahler’s 6th Symphony is a mammoth work: it lasts 80 minutes and requires an orchestra of nearly 100 players. Rather than the usual 4 French horns, there are 8 horns and the 1st horn part is fiendishly difficult. In most orchestral works, as a horn player you can expect to spend a fair amount of time counting the rests before you next come in but in Mahler 6 the 1st horn barely has more than a few seconds break in the whole piece. There are pages and pages of extremely high and loud notes, interspersed with plenty of delicate, exposed solos. When the Northampton Symphony Orchestra decided to take on the gargantuan challenge of performing the 6th Symphony it was in the knowledge that the daunting 1st horn part would be in the safe hands of our excellent principal horn player, David Lack. When it became clear that Dave was sadly going to miss the concert through illness, I was persuaded to step up to the challenge. Tackling this incredible work is a very exciting opportunity but one that I would much rather have had in different circumstances. The symphony has been dominating my life for the past 3 months. Since 7 August, apart from a week in Paris, a week in Northumberland and the occasional night away for work, I have played at least one movement of the work every day. Wary of the need to build my stamina, every Saturday and Sunday I have tried to play through all four movements without stopping. Finding 80 minutes to sit down and practice has been hard enough but the physical endurance necessary to play all the way through the symphony took some weeks to build up. Fortunately I won’t need to play every single note in the performance. It’s common practice in larger orchestral works to have an additional horn player ‘bumping’ the first horn part, ie doubling the first horn to allow the principal horn player to save himself for the solo passages, and I know I’m going to need this. I now know Mahler’s 6th Symphony intimately: it seems to be playing in my head most of the time at the moment. I like to practice by playing along with recordings and thanks to Spotify I’ve been working through heaps of different recordings (Sir Simon Rattle’s interpretation seems to be the slowest, Leonard Bernstein’s definitely the fastest, but I think my favourite is Claudio Abbado with the Berlin Philharmonic). At this Wednesday’s rehearsal we had all 9 horn players together for the first time – boy, it’s going to be loud! It’s an incredible work – passionate, playful, sentimental, brutal, triumphant and tragic, with lots of cowbells. If you are anywhere remotely within range of Northampton next Saturday, 12 November, please do join us for what promises to be an amazing concert – also including the lovely Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, played by Charlotte Skinner. Full details and tickets available from http://www.nso.org.uk/ – wish me luck!
Friday, October 28, 2011
‘Fatou’ by Fatoumata Diawara
28 October 2011
I first saw the young Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara providing backing vocals for the legendary Oumou Sangaré at the 2009 WOMAD Festival (reviewed here in July 2009). I saw her again at this year’s WOMAD Festival where she appeared on the BBC Radio 3 Stage with her own band to perform songs from her forthcoming debut album. That album, ‘Fatou’, was released in September and I’ve been listening to it this week. Fatoumata Diawara comes from Southern Mali and sings in the Wassalou style, familiar to me from Oumou Sangaré (reviewed here in March 2009) and that other great contemporary Malian singer Rokia Traoré (reviewed here in December 2008). Like Rokia Traoré, Fatoumata Diawara now lives in France and her music shows some European influences. Her voice is gentler than Oumou Sangaré and more laid-back than the breathy intensity of Rokia Traoré. And the songs on ‘Fatou’ are lovely – gentle, catchy, joyful, distinctively West African but easily accessible to European ears. Perhaps not as musically ambitious as Rokia Traoré or quite so concerned with political messages as Oumou Sangaré (though she does deal with some important social issues) Fatoumata Diawara has created an album which is sophisticated easy-listening.
I first saw the young Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara providing backing vocals for the legendary Oumou Sangaré at the 2009 WOMAD Festival (reviewed here in July 2009). I saw her again at this year’s WOMAD Festival where she appeared on the BBC Radio 3 Stage with her own band to perform songs from her forthcoming debut album. That album, ‘Fatou’, was released in September and I’ve been listening to it this week. Fatoumata Diawara comes from Southern Mali and sings in the Wassalou style, familiar to me from Oumou Sangaré (reviewed here in March 2009) and that other great contemporary Malian singer Rokia Traoré (reviewed here in December 2008). Like Rokia Traoré, Fatoumata Diawara now lives in France and her music shows some European influences. Her voice is gentler than Oumou Sangaré and more laid-back than the breathy intensity of Rokia Traoré. And the songs on ‘Fatou’ are lovely – gentle, catchy, joyful, distinctively West African but easily accessible to European ears. Perhaps not as musically ambitious as Rokia Traoré or quite so concerned with political messages as Oumou Sangaré (though she does deal with some important social issues) Fatoumata Diawara has created an album which is sophisticated easy-listening.
Friday, October 21, 2011
'South Pacific' by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II
21 October 2011
‘South Pacific’ by Rodgers and Hammerstein was the first musical I played for as a member of a pit band. It was a production by the excellent Westwood Musical Society at the Key Theatre in Peterborough in 1991. We did more than a week of performances, at the end of which I knew the score inside out and could recite huge chunks of the dialogue. But, being in the orchestra pit, I never actually saw the show and some aspects of the plot have never entirely made sense to me. Twenty years later I’ve finally got around to seeing ‘South Pacific’ for the first time. We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Saturday to see the acclaimed production from the Lincoln Center, New York. It was a very straightforward revival which didn’t attempt anything particular innovative or revisionist but it was excellently done. In the same way as Shakespeare seems to have inserted lots of famous lines into ‘Hamlet’, Rodgers and Hammerstein seem to have stuck a load of very well known songs together to make a musical. It’s an impressive show that includes ‘Some Enchanted Evening’, ‘There is Nothin' Like a Dame’, ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair’, ‘A Wonderful Guy’ and ‘Happy Talk’. The music was wonderful and the cast were very strong, particularly Samantha Womack as Nellie Forbush and the operatic baritone Jason Howard as Emile de Becque. I enjoyed the choreography (by Joe Langworth) but I could have done with more. I’m always a little disappointed with a musical that doesn’t have a really big dance number. And though I now finally understand the story, ‘South Pacific’ is not the most impressive of plots. Nevertheless the music is so good it doesn’t need much assistance and I really enjoyed the show.
‘South Pacific’ by Rodgers and Hammerstein was the first musical I played for as a member of a pit band. It was a production by the excellent Westwood Musical Society at the Key Theatre in Peterborough in 1991. We did more than a week of performances, at the end of which I knew the score inside out and could recite huge chunks of the dialogue. But, being in the orchestra pit, I never actually saw the show and some aspects of the plot have never entirely made sense to me. Twenty years later I’ve finally got around to seeing ‘South Pacific’ for the first time. We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Saturday to see the acclaimed production from the Lincoln Center, New York. It was a very straightforward revival which didn’t attempt anything particular innovative or revisionist but it was excellently done. In the same way as Shakespeare seems to have inserted lots of famous lines into ‘Hamlet’, Rodgers and Hammerstein seem to have stuck a load of very well known songs together to make a musical. It’s an impressive show that includes ‘Some Enchanted Evening’, ‘There is Nothin' Like a Dame’, ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair’, ‘A Wonderful Guy’ and ‘Happy Talk’. The music was wonderful and the cast were very strong, particularly Samantha Womack as Nellie Forbush and the operatic baritone Jason Howard as Emile de Becque. I enjoyed the choreography (by Joe Langworth) but I could have done with more. I’m always a little disappointed with a musical that doesn’t have a really big dance number. And though I now finally understand the story, ‘South Pacific’ is not the most impressive of plots. Nevertheless the music is so good it doesn’t need much assistance and I really enjoyed the show.
Friday, October 14, 2011
'Comedy Carpet' by Gordon Young
14 October 2011
It was great to have the opportunity to see Blackpool's new Comedy Carpet – an amazing artwork by Gordon Young featuring the catchphrases, jokes and names of more than 1,000 comedians which was unveiled by Ken Dodd at the foot of Blackpool Tower earlier this week. There has been massive worldwide interest in the Comedy Carpet: it was temporarily the most searched for term on Google. The ‘carpet’ is built from concrete and coloured granite and designed to withstand both the thousands of feet that will walk across it and the Blackpool weather. Encountering it for the first time is a compelling experience: the various catchphrases are all in different fonts, colours and sizes and face in different directions so you have to keep walking around to see the words that are initially upside down to you. This draws you in as you keep spotting another familiar phrase and trying to remember who said it. While there were plenty of old favourites I found quite a few lines I didn’t recognise and I kept smiling as I got the gist of another pun or witty aphorism for the first time. I suspect we will all have our favourites and I certainly found myself returning to the large words “I’m playing all the right notes – but not necessarily in the right order”. See: http://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/lifestyle/legend_unveils_comedy_carpet_1_3857375
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| Comedy Carpet, Blackpool |
It was great to have the opportunity to see Blackpool's new Comedy Carpet – an amazing artwork by Gordon Young featuring the catchphrases, jokes and names of more than 1,000 comedians which was unveiled by Ken Dodd at the foot of Blackpool Tower earlier this week. There has been massive worldwide interest in the Comedy Carpet: it was temporarily the most searched for term on Google. The ‘carpet’ is built from concrete and coloured granite and designed to withstand both the thousands of feet that will walk across it and the Blackpool weather. Encountering it for the first time is a compelling experience: the various catchphrases are all in different fonts, colours and sizes and face in different directions so you have to keep walking around to see the words that are initially upside down to you. This draws you in as you keep spotting another familiar phrase and trying to remember who said it. While there were plenty of old favourites I found quite a few lines I didn’t recognise and I kept smiling as I got the gist of another pun or witty aphorism for the first time. I suspect we will all have our favourites and I certainly found myself returning to the large words “I’m playing all the right notes – but not necessarily in the right order”. See: http://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/lifestyle/legend_unveils_comedy_carpet_1_3857375
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