Brighton Chamber Ensemble in Chichester

 Brighton Chamber Ensemble, Chichester Cathedral, Oct 10

This year's Autumn programme contains within it a mini Elgar Festival by way of what must be entirely due to different artists discretely deciding on him and Chichester thus temporarily taking on the role of Worcester. The order I placed for a disc of the Violin Sonata some weeks ago has been lost in transit, like others have, and is being re-sent. A suspicious mind might wonder if a courier serving the PO2 postcode isn't building a library.

I'm in favour of one substantial work rather than a programme of vignettes and the Quintet in A minor, for piano and String Quartet, op. 84, is all of that. You don't need massed resources to make a 'big' piece, as in the Beethoven sonatas, and this was 'orchestral' with the quartet often being a unit in itself rather than always four parts.

The Moderato-Allegro begins with a 'creepy theme', Rachel Ellis had told us, in woods haunted by Spanish witches. Elgar is sexier than he's given credit for. An open air atmosphere tinged with some lingering chill leads towards the spirited ( ! ) allegro in which it's not obvious if the piano or the quartet are leading the way in full spate before a return to stillness.

Adagio is what Elgar's best at with his sentimentale deep feeling and the restrained grace has hints of Enigmatic nostalgia with Siriol Hugh-Jones's cello prominent and rich until for those who think Elgar means the Malvern Hills, there they were. Ellie Blackshaw and Rachel's violins passed the melodic part to Ros Hansent-Laurent's mature viola, 'maturity' being very much what this music represents.

The third movement Andante carries on from where that left off but is soon more waltz-like in its Allegro with energy in the strings and acrobatics from Stephen Carroll-Turner's piano. Some slower tempi lead to a sweeping, totally tutti end. It was an assured and impressive performance, still sounding great from a few rows further back from where I usually am due to traffic delays but I got lucky enough. I thought it was worthy of more sustained applause than there was. I hope Chichester isn't starting to take such fine concerts for granted.

Edward Thomas Fellowship Walk

Accustomed as I am to walking fair distances, it's not so often these days up gradients like the Shoulder of Mutton or on surfaces of lesser integrity than Portsmouth pavements. They don't set a particularly high standard but downhill on stony uneven woodland paths it's best to minimize the risk.

One can't get to the most essential sites of interest with regard to Edward Thomas without making the effort, though, so home to Fratton station, Petersfield Station to Bedales School, the Fellowship walk advertised as strenuous in places, four and a half / five miles was all of that so I was glad of a lift back to Petersfield station before taking the home stretch from Fratton 'at my own pace'. That's at least 10 miles with hard bits. I was expecting more from the well-deserved first draught of Kronenbourg just now but the most memorable such thirst-assuaging moments have been provided by Amstel.

It was all worth it, though, and one doesn't spend time with quite such an erudite group of like-minded types as the Edward Thomas Fellowship very often. You can mention most C20th poets, poems and related things there and not need footnotes. But firstly, Good Lord, Bedales School. Sumptuous, of course, but you don't need to be an ardent Trotskyite to take one look at it and think it should be VAT-able. From there it's not far to the Steep war memorial with the name Edward Thomas on it. While I've been on most of the paths on today's route, I've not done them in the snaky pattern they were covered in today which took us to halfway up the Shoulder of Mutton's precipitous incline before a welcome sit down and some poems read out, many from somebody's obviously much-loved and much-used copy of Edna Longley's Annotated Collected Poems, using the Sarsen stone appropriately as a lectern.

There were three opportunities to consider views of the land he never saw before while hearing his language not to be betrayed which perhaps finished most evocatively at the Bee House, where Thomas lived before the Red House, by kind permission of its current incumbents of what is now a much extended and glorious place to live as long as you don't find you need to nip out for some milk and are happy to go everywhere by motor vehicle. The Bee House is, we were reliably, informed where Thomas was most impressed by birdsong. There are competing sounds over a hundred years later and not all days show it off in quite such conducive October summer days as he found himself up there when exposed to less clement elements. The season have redefined themselves since his day in a postmodern way that he might not have appreciated. Such idylls are hard won but the walk I did from the railway would have been his routine way home which sheds some light of the relative hardiness of him then and how easy some of us expect life to be now.

Of course, the poems but they are almost only the starting point of a gathering in which so many other discussions can spring from them. For those immersed in the subject on a daily basis maybe that all seems not unusual but I'm better off on the fringe of such society, if not most societies, and it comes to me as if I'm Alice through the looking glass or suddenly in Narnia via the wardrobe to find a world like that where those indigenous to it know exactly what they're doing and they're doing it very nicely thank you. It is great to see it going on and entirely my privilege to have been accommodated by them. It's hard to think of anywhere I'd rather have been, especially as I've got Sean O'Brien next week and Errollyn Wallen two weeks after that.

Busy month, with such special occasions on top of the musical 'day job' as I can by now call it. Thank you very much for being there, the Edward Thomas Fellowship.  

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ivory Duo at Lunchtime Live!

 Ivory Duo, Portsmouth Cathedral, Oct 5

Panayotis Archontides and Natalie Tsaldarakis returned to Portsmouth and found a much better sized audience than for their previous visit. Maybe their reputation is deservedly growing quite rapidly or perhaps the benefits of the free publicity of an interview at Music in Portsmouth were advertised by such box office results.

For many of us of a certain age, the opening of Faure's Dolly Suite is drenched in nostalgia for Listen with Mother on the BBC Home Service and then Radio 4 and so, yes, we were soon sitting very comfortably. It's not possible to separate the waves of grief for lost childhood from the realization that it is a gorgeous, softly lilting tune before any associations it brings with it and then, possibly, grows up a bit through mild rhapsody to what I'd say was a tarantella of a finish.

The Waltz from Khachaturian's Masquerade Suite was sufficiently nuanced to enhance the forte of its grand sweep as the duet swapped places, not that either the high end or low end is any more important than the other, but just in case and because they can.  

Panayotis has arranged the film music of Miklos Rozsa whose credits include Ben Hur and El Cid and the Lydia Suite was as Romantic and maybe Korngold as epic film music is required to be. The Bosendorfer might have a few extra low notes but in the climax here could almost have made use of some extra top notes.

As well as their hugely enjoyable repertoire of familiar classics, Ivory Duo promote the work of two Hughs, with a new record of Hugh Shrapnel's music due tomorrow. At the Rivoli was jazz-inflected and neat, based on its 4-note motif and Hugh Benham's Finale grew and grew from understated origins to the biggest climax yet.

Except it wasn't the finale and I was betting without Grieg's Peer Gynt with its clear morning light, stillness and the jaunty attitude of its third section before Natalie's portentous approaching footsteps came up from downstairs in In the Hall of the Mountain King before all else of it was unleashed.

An encore would have been appropriate but it was gone 2 o'clock by then and, let's face it, the pub had been open for quite some time. I'm sure they'll be back because they seem to like it here. Lovely people. They'll be welcome any time.    

Fontwell Preview with Racetrack Wiseguy

October got underway right on time with the Arc winner which had to be better than some good but not brilliant Group 1 opposition and he made 11/4 look excellent value when he proved to be a different class. So, we are well underway and thriving and go to Fontwell tomorrow full of hope. Confidence, really. So let's see what outrageous belief can do for us as we set off with defeat out of the question and thinking there's a bagful of winners to be had and a possibility of going through the card.

The favourite winning the first is always useful and Chris Gordon is usually expected to do well here so there's no need to look any further than Blame the Game (1.45).

He has King William Rufus of interest in the second but Mr. Henderson sending Nico down here with just the one horse is traditionally a tip in itself so maybe Iolaos du Mou (2.20) can start getting it right now.

Dan Skelton comes further than that with only one and even if Harry's not coming to ride it, the stable are straight among the winners and Sacre Coeur (2.55, nap) is an automatic choice even against another Gordon horse and Copperhead who has competed at a higher level in the past but not with much success recently.

One always has to look out for Gary Moore at Fontwell. Cosmic View (3.30) will be supported and shorten in price if they think he's the business first time out and I reckon he wouldn't be here if they didn't.

With only four runners in the 4.07, it's possibly the hardest race to have an opinion on. It could be a Chris Gordon double with Small Bad Bob but one could have three guesses and get it wrong.

Gambie Tiep (4.40, pictured) reappears only two days after winning at Bangor so Ben Pauling clearly wants to make use of his good form now and would rather have the seven pound penalty than be reassessed by the handicapper so we are very much hoping for a favourite's benefit day but on good ground and with good stables on our side that's not unreasonable.

Mainly because it can't be quite that easy, Beat the Heat might be worth opposing in the last at 5.15. He's a course specialist and had a run on the flat not too long ago but nothing keeps winning forever. Mr. Hobbs had a winner with his only recent runner which offers us Sassified, Neil Mulholland runs two, Sir Rock is a possibility but David Pipe's Only Fools could be a percentage choice at a decent price. However, I'd prefer to not have to care by then. 

Continuum in Chichester

 Continuum, Chichester Cathedral, Oct 3

One waits all year for days like these and then they are soon gone so it's best to seize them while one can. That is what Continuum did today as they 'soave s'il vento'-ed their way through a very pleasing programme of mostly baroque mostly woodwind music.

If I don't get synesthesia I can at least get pictures sometimes when they're on offer and Francois Couperin's Prelude from La Francoise was surely butterflies, especially below the arresting mauve artwork, Peace Doves by Peter Walker that filled the air in the nave and at first sight could have been taken for blossom.

Michael Overbury's harpsichord was to provide the subtle continuo throughout but had an early solo outing with two pieces by Byrd, an elegant Callino Casturame and the gigue-like La Volta, that balanced delicacy with the requisite formality.

Rachel Beckett returned with recorder rather than flute for the ensemble's Quantz, a Sonata both Bach-like and Bach-lite with a leisurely Larghetto and a frolicking Vivace in which, as was the case for several of these pieces, Sebastian Comberti's cello was as much the main line as the woodwind. There's very little I enjoy more than the thoughtful wanderings of a baroque cello and in the Vivace he was most amenable and jolly for he's a jolly, good cello.

This music is incapable of harshness and a Chaconne by Leclair was summery in its orderly flights and serenity before the two flutes alone gave a tantalising, somehow almost modern-sounding, mysterious Allegro from the Duet, F. 59 by W. F. Bach. And then the finale was his slightly younger brother, C. P. E.'s, Trio Sonata Wq 151 which began suspiciously not far from where W. F. had left off along with more cello to immerse ourselves in, Elizabeth Walker embroidering patterns with Rachel before the cheery send off in the Allegro that left one wanting nothing more demonstrative or profound because this was a gorgeous confection entirely to be enjoyed and very welcome for that. There might well be deeper, darker more meaningful things ahead of us, most Tuesdays from now until late November, but few will leave us feeling as much the better, and possibly lighter, for having heard them.

Katya Hoyer - Beyond the Wall

Katya Hoyer, Beyond the Wall (Allen Lane)

I had always understood 'revisionist' to be a term of disapproval but now I'm not sure. It was a pejorative term when used by Marxists but maybe now it just means what it says and revises previously held assumptions. When Katya Hoyer's comprehensive history of the German Democratic Republic was published earlier this year there were suggestions that it was an attempt to make it sound 'not so bad after all' and a bit of mild controversy does a book a favour in attracting publicity but now, having seen for myself, one can hardly call it a defence of the GDR. I think it was also said that Katya wasn't there, casting doubt on how she would know - she was 4 when the Berlin Wall was dismantled- but surely most histories, like those concerning Julius Caesar, Henry VIII or Shakespeare, are not written by eye witnesses. Not even Herodotus was that. Without wanting to make any more of the comparison, I recently lived for three years under the most appalling Prime Minister and detested everything about him but my life wouldn't have been very different had it been anybody else.

Beyond the Wall is structured around a series of East Germans who definitely were there as it happened, their stories representing situations at significant stages of the GDR's 40 year existence until she provides her own reportage when witnessing demonstrations on the streets of East Berlin far below her vantage point in the Television Tower. All this is told in impressive English given that, in a recent interview, Katya has said,

It doesn't seem so long ago that I sat in my bedroom in Germany learning English by reading Harry Potter books with a dictionary on my lap.

which demonstrates how the best English is so often that of those who learnt it rather than those of us who picked it up as we went along.

The arbitrary drawing of lines on maps by those with the power to delineate new nation states after a war has regularly only saved up further conflict for later whether it was in India/Pakistan, the success that Yugoslavia was while it lasted or Northern Ireland. Germans were still Germans whether thus divided or not and the East, much smaller and less endowed with natural resources 'never stood a chance'. It comes as a surprise to me that Stalin favoured a united but neutral Germany while it was Walter Ulbricht, the GDR's first General Secretary, that saw his role as a devout communist satellite of the Kremlin.

Katya in no way ties to prettify the implacable party line taken by Ulbricht, the Stasi and the often uneasy, conscripted border guards manning the Berlin Wall after 1961. The unsympathetic regime found it necessary to prevent excursions from the East to the West to the extent that Erich Honecker, setting a paragon example, didn't even attend his own parents' funerals in the Saarland in 1963 and 1969. Life for many could be dull, grey, monotonous and overly regulated but for others, the communist party was a way of life and the success of the socialist experiment would be its own reward. As Putin's Russia continues to do, presenting NATO, the USA and the West as imperialist aggressors gave the cause an enemy worth withstanding.

At its best, socialism achieved some things the West could not, not least a more equal role in work for women, a basic standard of living and accommodation for its population and more tolerance for pop and rock music than might have been thought although it appears that it might have been 'rock' rather than Tamla Motown and 'soul' that was available. The USSR and subsequently China had similarly seen sport as a way of advertising the benefits of their ideological cultures by harvesting medals at the Olympic Games but, even as I well remember, the GDR's spectacular outperforming of any sensible expectations was dubious, very suspicious and looked absurd.

In the end, it was the Soviet Union's lack of commitment to it that let the GDR down more than any shortcomings of its own dogged efforts. Leonid Brezhnev's withdrawal of support in oil supplies and funds undermined Honecker's unerring faith in, but dependance on, the USSR in the early 1980's and trying to make compensatory deals with the West was neither desirable or advantageous, not to mention the environmental impact of reverting to old, even dirtier resources to keep their heavy industry going. Even in the 1950's the need to exploit any and all natural resources, which has never been solely an Eastern bloc strategy, mining left,

unsightly craters behind that would turn entire East German regions into desolate moonscapes.

The game was up from then on, if it hadn't always been. I'm not convinced that Katya explains why Stalin was never really behind the GDR project even if it seems that Brezhnev simply didn't think he could afford it. East Germany had partial success in delivering some of the ideals of socialism but at a cost that neither it, or socialism itself could make balance. One of its greatest heroes in its time was the gymnast, Katarina Witt, and Angela Merkel, who became a great European, grew up in East Germany while J.S. Bach and Handel were both born there longer ago and so it is an area, if no longer a country, that should be known for much better things than the Trabant cars that were once, like the Mini in the UK, objects of desire and are again for those Ostalgistes, those with a nostalgia for some of what they remember of the old days.

Katya Hoyer has done her homeland a great service in providing this vivid account of it. I'm no historian because objective truth, especially in the Age of Trump and Johnson, has become even less available than it ever was but I don't imagine it could have been set out any more lucidly than it has been here.

    

Revenge

Three hours and still utterly riveting. I have had a tendency in recent years to rate Bach above Shakespeare but that's largely on account of 'perfect' being more easily, apparently, achieved in music than in words but neither Bach or Handel wrote Hamlet.

David Tennant's antics are better than I remember them but I don't remember much at all. The use of a mirror to shoot Polonius through rather than an arras to stab him through provides the fractured reflection on the characters several times once it's there to be made use of.

But what I don't remember ever being taught, or finding out, was that there's not just the two revenge plots, Laertes being manipulated by Claudius to kill Hamlet after Hamlet's accidentally killed Polonius 'taking him for his better' in pursuit of the ghost's instructions. The whole play is framed  by Fortinbras taking revenge on Denmark for Old Hamlet taking territory off Old Fortinbras thirty years earlier. Quite brilliant, as is the whole design of the thing, the language, the psychology and the 'philosophy' contained within all that.

And Hamlet is 30 because it says so in the gravedigger scene. That's when the previous war was and Yorick must have died when Hamlet was 7. He's still a student but he's royal and not got much else to do and, of course, he's a dilettante.