I took a break from being splenetic and incandescent with rage this weekend. No, really. Even someone as permanently grouchy and curmudgeonly as me needs the occasional day off. To soothe my furrowed brow, I went to Birmingham. Or more specifically, because I'm sure you're all wondering how being in Birmingham could help any mental torture, I went to Symphony Hall for a couple of concerts in their international series.
The first one was Mahler's Seventh Symphony, played by the Philharmonia Orchestra and conducted by Venezuelan wunderkind Gustavo Dudamel, the hip young gunslinger of conductors who established El Sistema to provide a route out of the favelas for the poorest children in his country. I'm not a huge Mahler fan to be honest, finding too much of it bombastic, but the experience of one of his big symphonies is stunning, and Dudamel did a fine job. Perhaps now there's a vacancy at the CBSO, he fancies his chances?
If you don't know Mahler, you probably do know Mahler through echoes and homages, especially if you watch films much. No Mahler, no John Williams and a host of other soundtrack composers. In particular, no Star Wars Imperial March, no Star Trek theme and arguably no Red Dwarf theme either: the seeds of all these pieces are in there.
The other concert was Maxim Vengerov and the Polish Chamber Orchestra playing Mozart's Violin Concertos 4 and 5, followed by some Tchaikovsky. Again, not my favourite periods or composers but I was in the mood for some high-octane virtuoso stuff, and by Toutatis I got it. Playing the 1727 Kreutzer Stradivarius, Vengerov played like a man possessed (and a man who likes to show off). He wrung everything from that violin, and the orchestra did him proud too. He gave two encores (both Saint-Saens pieces) and got a standing ovation. A superb night. Or it would have been were it not for the man sitting next to me, who appeared to have contracted St. Vitus' Dance. Worse than that, his clothes appeared to be made of foil, his skin was like paper and his beard reminded me of the old guy in this ad.
He couldn't stop rubbing his sleeves, hands or whiskers, even in the quietest, most intense moments. I wanted to relocate his teeth to his lower intestine, which I am sure was not Mozart's intended emotion.
Here he is playing it elsewhere some years back, without any audience sound-effects.
Showing posts with label Mahler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mahler. Show all posts
Monday, 18 November 2013
Monday, 17 September 2012
Sisyphus, reporting for duty
Greetings, minions.
Sorry. It's induction week, so my authoritarian tendencies are coming to the fore. I keep thinking of the driving instructor's assertion to Cher in Clueless (my favourite Jane Austen adaptation, sadly not available on Youtube): 'as far as you're concerned, I'm the Messiah'.
However, despite the myriad opportunities to terrify new students, the week is actually going to be one of semi-controlled panic, and very little blogging. We have multiple meetings with the freshers and with our colleagues (none of whom could possible be described as 'fresh') and a mind-numbing set of administrative duties. I'm not sure what the collective term for academics is, but 'a grumble' will do nicely. Just ask one about electronic module guide formatting and retire to a safe distance.
Anyway, I prepared for the onslaught by going to a mighty fine concert on Saturday: the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and Chorus playing some Richard Strauss and Mahler's Symphony No. 2, The Resurrection. The Strauss was fairly unremarkable: glutinous late-Romantic stew despite being composed well into the 20th-century, but the Mahler was magnificent. Being a fan mainly of dissonant 20th-century classical music, I was surprised by the modernity of the symphony. It was 19th-century in the massive scale of musical forces: eight double basses, a contrabassoon, multiple percussionists, French horns, more instruments off-stage and ('at last') Tubular Bells, but there was a lot more light and shade than I expected. The soprano (Sarah Fox) and mezzo-soprano Mijoko Fujimura sung with total control, and the delicacy of the CBSO Chorus in the pianissimo section was breathtaking - about 1.13.25 in this version:
Some sections of the symphony meandered a little - not the orchestra's fault but the composer's - but the final movement is a monster, and I could understand why the ovation was one of the longest I've ever seen: so long, in fact, that many of the rather senior crowd might well lose their disability benefits if anyone from ATOS was there. I also enjoyed spotting the sections which have been lifted wholesale by Hollywood soundtrack composers. Too be expected, I suppose: most of the studio musicians were German refugees with similar training and an ear for the dramatic. In recent years, I'd wager Howard Shore was listening to a lot of Mahler and Dvorak's Requiem Mass when he wrote the Lord of the Rings music, and there's a Mahlerian air to some of Alexander Courage's Star Trek theme (the show's creator Gene Roddenbury ripped him off by writing lyrics which were deliberately never used, thus claiming 50% of the royalties).
Right. Time to do some more work. Laters!
Sorry. It's induction week, so my authoritarian tendencies are coming to the fore. I keep thinking of the driving instructor's assertion to Cher in Clueless (my favourite Jane Austen adaptation, sadly not available on Youtube): 'as far as you're concerned, I'm the Messiah'.
However, despite the myriad opportunities to terrify new students, the week is actually going to be one of semi-controlled panic, and very little blogging. We have multiple meetings with the freshers and with our colleagues (none of whom could possible be described as 'fresh') and a mind-numbing set of administrative duties. I'm not sure what the collective term for academics is, but 'a grumble' will do nicely. Just ask one about electronic module guide formatting and retire to a safe distance.
Anyway, I prepared for the onslaught by going to a mighty fine concert on Saturday: the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and Chorus playing some Richard Strauss and Mahler's Symphony No. 2, The Resurrection. The Strauss was fairly unremarkable: glutinous late-Romantic stew despite being composed well into the 20th-century, but the Mahler was magnificent. Being a fan mainly of dissonant 20th-century classical music, I was surprised by the modernity of the symphony. It was 19th-century in the massive scale of musical forces: eight double basses, a contrabassoon, multiple percussionists, French horns, more instruments off-stage and ('at last') Tubular Bells, but there was a lot more light and shade than I expected. The soprano (Sarah Fox) and mezzo-soprano Mijoko Fujimura sung with total control, and the delicacy of the CBSO Chorus in the pianissimo section was breathtaking - about 1.13.25 in this version:
Some sections of the symphony meandered a little - not the orchestra's fault but the composer's - but the final movement is a monster, and I could understand why the ovation was one of the longest I've ever seen: so long, in fact, that many of the rather senior crowd might well lose their disability benefits if anyone from ATOS was there. I also enjoyed spotting the sections which have been lifted wholesale by Hollywood soundtrack composers. Too be expected, I suppose: most of the studio musicians were German refugees with similar training and an ear for the dramatic. In recent years, I'd wager Howard Shore was listening to a lot of Mahler and Dvorak's Requiem Mass when he wrote the Lord of the Rings music, and there's a Mahlerian air to some of Alexander Courage's Star Trek theme (the show's creator Gene Roddenbury ripped him off by writing lyrics which were deliberately never used, thus claiming 50% of the royalties).
Right. Time to do some more work. Laters!
Friday, 14 September 2012
Friday already!
Hi everyone! Did you enjoy having a little break from me yesterday? I really should consider the amount of effort you lot put into reading my frequent, rambling narratives.
Yesterday was graduation day for my School. I went to two ceremonies because I work in two departments, and couldn't miss seeing all my students. As always, one of the games to play while sitting on the stage is to put names to faces: there are a surprising number who manage to get through a whole degree without ever speaking to their teachers! It's also great to match supporters with students, and admire the incredible lengths taken to dress up. Your teachers look like scruffy herberts in comparison! This year was all about the shoes: there seemed to be a height competition going on.
Graduation is one of those occasions which gives me an opportunity to see the university in the round: students from lots of different courses all together. The Hegemon's national and ethnic diversity is readily apparent, and the high quality of our awards. For instance, the English cohort managed five first-class degrees between them, an amazing achievement (about 8% of the intake). They're kosher too: every university course is scrutinised by academics from other institutions to make sure we're operating at the same level. Our current examiner is from Cardiff's brilliant English department, so our own graduates should know that they're up to the same standards.
The First-Class graduates this year are also special because they really representative of our intake: 3, possibly 4 of them are mature students who also look after children and have jobs. Similarly, I was particularly proud of Jana, who took the media prize for a dissertation which was not only of publishable quality in terms of research, but was written in beautiful, elegant English - her second language. Away from the top grades too were so many students whose degree was a triumph over circumstances, academic problems, health setbacks, a lack of confidence or traumatic experiences.
This year was also excellent because much more effort had been put into the day: a reception afterwards for everybody, shorter, sharper speeches (the two by SU officials were absolutely excellent: one personal and emotional, one political and pointed, and the same goes for the Vice-Chancellor's very deliberate praise for our international students) and a real sense of occasion. I also particularly appreciated the procession of staff: the embarrassment of parading through town in silly costumes was balanced by getting to the wine reception before the students and guests. We're a thirsty lot, so perhaps the authorities might rethink that element….
Talking of which, this year's graduation was a success in that I survived the post-match celebrations in a state no worse than exhaustion. Last year I was kidnapped by a determined bunch of graduates and rendered into a condition which can only be described as 'hog-whimpering', from which state I needed two full days to recover.
So that's all the fun over. I spent this morning at the Staff Wellbeing and Moral Task and Finish Group Workgroup 3 meeting, which was exactly as much fun as it sounds. Admin this afternoon, and maybe even a bit of academic work! The highlight of the weekend though is Mahler's Resurrection Symphony at Birmingham's Symphony Hall. Hopefully I won't end up sitting next to a Nazi this time - at Mahler's 8th, a pompous man informed me that if I liked it, I should listen to Bruckner: 'like the Fuhrer after dinner every day'.
Yesterday was graduation day for my School. I went to two ceremonies because I work in two departments, and couldn't miss seeing all my students. As always, one of the games to play while sitting on the stage is to put names to faces: there are a surprising number who manage to get through a whole degree without ever speaking to their teachers! It's also great to match supporters with students, and admire the incredible lengths taken to dress up. Your teachers look like scruffy herberts in comparison! This year was all about the shoes: there seemed to be a height competition going on.
Graduation is one of those occasions which gives me an opportunity to see the university in the round: students from lots of different courses all together. The Hegemon's national and ethnic diversity is readily apparent, and the high quality of our awards. For instance, the English cohort managed five first-class degrees between them, an amazing achievement (about 8% of the intake). They're kosher too: every university course is scrutinised by academics from other institutions to make sure we're operating at the same level. Our current examiner is from Cardiff's brilliant English department, so our own graduates should know that they're up to the same standards.
The First-Class graduates this year are also special because they really representative of our intake: 3, possibly 4 of them are mature students who also look after children and have jobs. Similarly, I was particularly proud of Jana, who took the media prize for a dissertation which was not only of publishable quality in terms of research, but was written in beautiful, elegant English - her second language. Away from the top grades too were so many students whose degree was a triumph over circumstances, academic problems, health setbacks, a lack of confidence or traumatic experiences.
This year was also excellent because much more effort had been put into the day: a reception afterwards for everybody, shorter, sharper speeches (the two by SU officials were absolutely excellent: one personal and emotional, one political and pointed, and the same goes for the Vice-Chancellor's very deliberate praise for our international students) and a real sense of occasion. I also particularly appreciated the procession of staff: the embarrassment of parading through town in silly costumes was balanced by getting to the wine reception before the students and guests. We're a thirsty lot, so perhaps the authorities might rethink that element….
Talking of which, this year's graduation was a success in that I survived the post-match celebrations in a state no worse than exhaustion. Last year I was kidnapped by a determined bunch of graduates and rendered into a condition which can only be described as 'hog-whimpering', from which state I needed two full days to recover.
So that's all the fun over. I spent this morning at the Staff Wellbeing and Moral Task and Finish Group Workgroup 3 meeting, which was exactly as much fun as it sounds. Admin this afternoon, and maybe even a bit of academic work! The highlight of the weekend though is Mahler's Resurrection Symphony at Birmingham's Symphony Hall. Hopefully I won't end up sitting next to a Nazi this time - at Mahler's 8th, a pompous man informed me that if I liked it, I should listen to Bruckner: 'like the Fuhrer after dinner every day'.
Friday, 17 September 2010
Getting Mahlered
I wandered over to Brummidge last night for a performance of Mahler's 8th Symphony, with the CBSO, the CBSO Chorus, CBSO Youth Chorus, CBSO Children's Chorus (the only ones who sang from memory) and the Hallé Choir, conducted by Andris Nelsons, their hotshot star. The solo singers were Marina Shaguch, Erin Wall, Carolyn Sampson, Katarina Karnéus , Mihoko Fujimura , Sergei Semishkur, Christopher Maltman and Stephen Gadd.
As you can probably tell, it's a monster - a choir of several hundred, a massive orchestra supplemented by pianos, organ and all sorts of other bits and pieces. I'm not a huge fan of Mahler or his period, but the 8th is currently hailed as the greatest symphony of all, so I thought I should slip along.
It was an astonishing experience. The hall was completely packed - I got a seat right on the top level, eyeballing the lighting rig, high enough to make me a bit queasy leaning over the rail to watch the musicians. There was a huge buzz of expectation - if you're going to perform The Big One, you've got to get it right. It's the classical experience - massive choirs and huge set pieces literally shaking the hall, but also delicate solos, moments of tenderness and calm, crescendos and tiny, quiet interludes - the soloists have to be at the top of their game, but without a brilliant choir and orchestra, it can't be done.
It was done last night, in some style. The choir spilled out into the arena. A second brass section was installed in the upper circle. Singers appeared amongst the audience - one appeared silently a few yards from me, delivered the most beautiful solo, and glided away - and the children were as convincing as the adults, despite singing in Latin and German for 85 minutes without a break. Everything was perfect - the orchestra, the choirs, the soloists. No weaknesses, no languors, everyone responding to perfection in response to a conductor they clearly loved. It's the most complete musical experience I've ever seen.
The crowd went wild at the end. I've been to some amazing concerts, but I've never seen 1000 pensioners (mostly) express genuine ecstasy before - stamping, whistling, demanding multiple bows from the performers. I was dazed at the end, genuinely overcome not only by the sheer noise, but by the artistic ability on display.
As you can probably tell, it's a monster - a choir of several hundred, a massive orchestra supplemented by pianos, organ and all sorts of other bits and pieces. I'm not a huge fan of Mahler or his period, but the 8th is currently hailed as the greatest symphony of all, so I thought I should slip along.
It was an astonishing experience. The hall was completely packed - I got a seat right on the top level, eyeballing the lighting rig, high enough to make me a bit queasy leaning over the rail to watch the musicians. There was a huge buzz of expectation - if you're going to perform The Big One, you've got to get it right. It's the classical experience - massive choirs and huge set pieces literally shaking the hall, but also delicate solos, moments of tenderness and calm, crescendos and tiny, quiet interludes - the soloists have to be at the top of their game, but without a brilliant choir and orchestra, it can't be done.
It was done last night, in some style. The choir spilled out into the arena. A second brass section was installed in the upper circle. Singers appeared amongst the audience - one appeared silently a few yards from me, delivered the most beautiful solo, and glided away - and the children were as convincing as the adults, despite singing in Latin and German for 85 minutes without a break. Everything was perfect - the orchestra, the choirs, the soloists. No weaknesses, no languors, everyone responding to perfection in response to a conductor they clearly loved. It's the most complete musical experience I've ever seen.
The crowd went wild at the end. I've been to some amazing concerts, but I've never seen 1000 pensioners (mostly) express genuine ecstasy before - stamping, whistling, demanding multiple bows from the performers. I was dazed at the end, genuinely overcome not only by the sheer noise, but by the artistic ability on display.
Here's Rattle conducting the National Youth Orchestra in the opening and closing sections. Even if you hate classical music, turn it up loud and give it a go.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Cravat Twats
The Map Twats went indoors yesterday, for a performance by the National Youth Orchestra at Birmingham Symphony Hall. Before that, we went to The Wellington, a fine real ale pub in central Brum which encourages customers to bring their own cheese. Dan did the honours, providing some fine Brie, and Oxford Blue, some goats' cheese, good bread, Greek olives and onion marmalade. I turned up with Italian salami and game pie. The other customers seemed to be divided between admiration and contempt for our effete picnic.
The concert was partly aimed at getting under-25s into classical music. Musically, it was a great success, but demographically it was an utter failure. The thin crowd consisted of players' relatives, very old people and the Map Twats (average age 33). The 12-year old behind me loftily informed his mother that the NYO are 'copying the NCO and aren't nearly as good this year as they were last year'. I moved seats. Unfortunately, the man next to me was no improvement. He poked me every time the Berio and Strauss pieces quoted from Mahler, recommended Bruckner's Fourth because 'Hitler played it after supper every evening' and then poked into my shopping bag. I'd bought a new shirt from Lewin, reduced from £85 to £25: he told me that when he worked in the city, Lewin used to make 'good' shirts but now they might come from anywhere…
Anyway, audience aside, the concert was stunning. The Berio was complex, fun and compelling, the Wiegold piece they started with was a nice piece of lightweight contemporary theatre, and the Strauss (Richard) was, well, German. Huge orchestra, kitchen sink, post-Romantic but impressive in its way.
Today, it's the university's Black Wednesday meeting - I'll be live-blogging my last day in employment.
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