HOW CAN YOU TELL?
- Pt 1
How many posh music concerts have I seen? Say 200 - 300. How many have caught my breath? About five. A workshop version of Cosi,. Stephen Hough playing a Cesar Franck sonata, Richard Hickox (sadly, now late) conducting Mahler’s Symphony for a Thousand, Herbert Blomstedt with the Leipzig Gewandhaus doing Brahms Symphony 3, Bach’s St Matthew Passion, CBSO with Simon Rattle.
Yesterday Mrs LdP and I risked ass-chill in Birmingham (time to kill; lunch to find) and struck lucky with Brahms again. The fourth movement of Symphony 1 (CBSO with Andrés Orozco-Estrada) qualified.
That’s 1% in 55 years. About what I’d expect. How many real turkeys? Fewer. And two of the most notorious involved very late replacements.
Over lunch (lasagne, a large glass of Puglia Rosso, and an excellent not-too-sweet cheesecake, since you ask) Mrs LdP and I discussed judging musical performances. Ruling out amateurs (and I do) and strange venues with professional unknowns (ditto) one can expect technical competence at the very least. Music is so competitive. Anyone who can’t do all the notes is quickly doomed to instructing secondary school classes in Come Unto These Yellow Sands.
At venues like Birmingham’s Symphony Hall and London’s Wigmore Hall advanced interpretations can be expected and judgement starts to be based on finer and finer nuances. It’s at this point that people who’ve lapped up the Eroica, the Mozart piano concerto 21 and a host of other accessible masterpieces often find themselves faced with another level of comprehension and give up. “I’ll only bother with music that simply washes over me,” they say.
Certainly the above percentage wouldn’t encourage them. For what it’s worth I’ll try and address this in my bumbling way but it will take several posts and the erection of several goalposts.
Yesterday Mrs LdP and I risked ass-chill in Birmingham (time to kill; lunch to find) and struck lucky with Brahms again. The fourth movement of Symphony 1 (CBSO with Andrés Orozco-Estrada) qualified.
That’s 1% in 55 years. About what I’d expect. How many real turkeys? Fewer. And two of the most notorious involved very late replacements.
Over lunch (lasagne, a large glass of Puglia Rosso, and an excellent not-too-sweet cheesecake, since you ask) Mrs LdP and I discussed judging musical performances. Ruling out amateurs (and I do) and strange venues with professional unknowns (ditto) one can expect technical competence at the very least. Music is so competitive. Anyone who can’t do all the notes is quickly doomed to instructing secondary school classes in Come Unto These Yellow Sands.
At venues like Birmingham’s Symphony Hall and London’s Wigmore Hall advanced interpretations can be expected and judgement starts to be based on finer and finer nuances. It’s at this point that people who’ve lapped up the Eroica, the Mozart piano concerto 21 and a host of other accessible masterpieces often find themselves faced with another level of comprehension and give up. “I’ll only bother with music that simply washes over me,” they say.
Certainly the above percentage wouldn’t encourage them. For what it’s worth I’ll try and address this in my bumbling way but it will take several posts and the erection of several goalposts.
Re pic: He's just a bit younger than me.