Blondes thicker than blood

 There's a poll going for the best Outdoor Blogger of The Year. They say (I never say it, it's a cliché) that blood's thicker than water, so I shoulda voted for my brother, Sir Hugh. I mean what more does he have to do? Twice round the Equator (or its equivalemt), up and down the Munros (a sort of Scottish biscuit), down and through the French gorges (Gorge, in French, is throat so that sounds a bit filthy. Actually it's breast and that's even filthier).

Latterly Sir Hugh's read the Ballad of Chevy Chace, especially this verse:

For Witherington needs must I wayle,
  As one in doleful dumpes;
For when his legs were smitten off,
  He fought upon his stumpes.

With the result that he's going to do everything he did before but while bleeding to death!

What a hero. I shoulda voted for him

Instead I voted for Two Blondes Walking. But there are limits, family ties prevent me from doing a puff for them.  Click on B2 in my links and do your own puff. Then vote early and often.

Stepping back a little

 Although I have CDs of music played on period instruments (memorably Melvyn Tan, fortepiano, doing LvB) and have seen period  performances on telly, yesterday was my first live concert. To Birmingham for The Academy of Ancient Music with two versions of Stabat Mater (Vivaldi, Pergolesi), Salve Regina (Vivaldi) and two concerti armonico (van Wassenaer).

Some things I expected. Gut strings detune quicker than the modern metal-wound kind and there's some messing about on their behalf. Not least for the gloomy, possibly French woman, endlessly attending to her theorbo (pictured). This cumbersome device seemed, to my gradually dysfunctioning ears, almost inaudible. Gut strings in general are supposed to generate less noise but this problem didn't arise. I am by now used to counter-tenors and Andreas Scholl, world renowned, offered beautiful, wobble-free tone over his full range.

What did surprise me was the structure of the music. The two cellos and double bass were reduced to an undemanding and repetitive drone-like accompaniment which I believe is called ground bass. Strange, given that Bach's dates are contemporary with these three composers and his unaccompanied cello suites - a growing comfort in my declining years - demonstrate what you can get out of a cello when you try.

The van Wassenaer pieces, both in four movements, were good fun but predictable. This Dutch nobleman favoured the "round" approach; each violin playing the same melody but entering the fray at different times. Very soon I was able to hum in advance what the next ten seconds would bring. Quietly of course.

There was no conductor, the leader (a violinist) did the cue-ing with a most eloquent body. Informality reigned. To the point where leader and counter-tenor crashed into one another when leaving the stage.

Genre - the comic side of pop

Did you know that Grindcore rock can be sub-divided into Crustgrind, Goregrind, Noisegrind and – let’s not forget – Pornogrind? I intended to post about pop/rock genres but not now. Nor, for similar reasons, will I study Aramaic

As pop/rock started in the fifties, academics who could sing mixolydian mode were invited to comment. One typed it “disposable”, forgotten in six months. In fact Rock Around The Clock, launched in 1953, was still on juke boxes in 1978 (see Tone Deaf, January 7) and the flame's still lit for Elvis, born the year I was. Genres, however, might well be disposable.

Take Nirvana whose Nevermind in the mid-nineties was identified as Grunge (distorted electric guitars, contrasting song dynamics, apathetic and angsty lyrics – doesn’t that sound unexceptional?) and Grunge got hot. Along came Foo Fighters (like Grunge, friendlier, more commercial) who attracted the unimaginative label Post-Grunge.

Thus Funk (no, I can’t be bothered to define it) became Deep Funk and Disco became Post-Disco. It was a game anyone could play though there’s a hint of desperation in some of the evolutions. Heavy Metal (definition: noisy) became as schismatic as the left-wing, giving birth to: Alternative, Black, Christian, Death, Doom, Drone and Glam. Anyone for Christian Heavy Metal?

Who profits? Not the consumers. None I’ve questioned had a clue about Garage Rock (Raw R&R; young amateurish performers singing about high-school; “naïve”). Managers, perhaps, claiming that their new Industrial Rock group is pushing back the frontiers. Falling leaves in the stream but fascinating. Sort of.

I may try out Baroque Pop.

PERFECT The Takacz Qt. Much admired by Tone Deaf (passim), played Haydn and Dvorak at a concert covered by The Guardian and were awarded five stars (out of five).

Blest Redeemer: 40,069 words (Another ten-thousand milestone passed)