Ding dong bell; put Libby down the well

It really is about time Libby Purves got a researcher assistant. Every single week she manages to upset one of her guests on Midweek (Radio 4, Weds at 9am and repeated at 9.30pm). Today her target fought back. How he restrained himself from bopping her on the head with one of his hand-bells, I’ll never know.

The blurb for this week’s show says:

Philip Earis is a bellringer. He was asked by Cambridge University to compose a special piece to mark the University's 800th anniversary this year. His composition will be rung simultaneously on the five city-centre bell towers of Cambridge this weekend, Saturday 17th January.

… Makes it sound like he’s some dull guy who stands in a drafty bell-tower tugging a rope once a week. In fact he is pretty feisty and fascinated by the mathematics of bell-ringing. His blog is a bit disappointing on that aspect of the art, but he says he’s just “slimmed it down” so maybe he’ll reinstate some of that.

For a 23-year-old to be commissioned by Cambridge University is pretty impressive, I reckon. Typically, Purves took the piss, and had apparently accused him off-air of being a ‘nerd’. Having heard a snippet of his composition (played on hand-bells instead of the biggies) I reckon he should re-brand himself as a “performance artist” and put himself up for the Turner Prize.

Of could, Ms P probably hadn’t bothered to take any notice of what was coming up after her programme (she’s too self-important to bother). If she had paid attention, she’d have heard Julian Rhind-Tutt reading today’s installment of The Rest is Noise by Alex Ross featuring Stockhausen. Maths and experimental music influencing the Beatles – who’d have thought it, eh?

Ross’s book is annoying – only because I didn’t publish it myself 20 years ago. He’s pretty much followed the whole of my undergrad music course. AND I wrote my dissertation on how the 20th century avant-garde influenced the production of Sgt Pepper. Ouch.

Who knows where the time goes?

Woman's Hour are currently talking about Sandy Denny and her role in the English folk music scene. They started the package by playing my all time number one favourite song in any genre ever* (hyperbole, moi?) 'Who knows where the time goes?'.

While Sandy's version is definitive, I don't care who sings it, I just love it.

The freelance writer/editor's anthem, perhaps? (as in, got to dash now, I've got to work on another project that's running late!)


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*And hey, I know a few, having been a singer of all sorts of music for >30 years.

Autumn Days – a hymn that gets the bloggers' keyboards clattering

I never intended to blog about religion – it’s not something that I think about often – but here’s my second post this month pertaining to the Church of England.

On Monday I went along to my son’s junior school [‘voluntary aided’ C of E; aka the closest school to our home] for Harvest Festival. The format worked well. Each class performed a ‘sketch’ on the harvest theme, interspersed with prayers and hymns. Unfortunately, it was hard to pay attention after the first five minutes because the first hymn raised my hackles to such a degree I could hardly sit still.

The hymn in question – Autumn Days, written by former nun, Estelle White, about 30 years ago – turns out to be quite a favourite among bloggers.

It was the lyric of the first verse that incensed me (no pun in tended; this is C of E we’re dealing with!):

Autumn days when the grass is jewelled
And the silk inside a chestnut shell
Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled
All these things I love so well

To which I can only respond using a new acronym (pinched from Kathryn Flett* in Sunday’s Observer): WTF?

Why on earth would anyone want to praise “Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled”? Having Googled the hymn title, and nosied around a few of the very many blogs that seem to adore this bizarre hymn [see for instance this, and caseyleaver], I turned up a snippet from the Independent in 1996, which reports on a Norfolk-based church choir’s mutiny when the incumbent asked them to sing this ‘modern’ ditty instead of a good old-fashioned harvest hymn. White’s justification for mentioning the jet planes was, the Independent reported: “Mid-air refuelling was a wonder in the Sixties”.

I suppose it was the juxtaposition of this hymn among some very good items about Fair Trade (and a great word game that extracted the words ‘Eat’ and ‘Starve’ from the letters of ‘Harvest’) that really annoyed me about the school’s choice of hymn. They’d done so well, why ruin it with this nonsense?

As far as I can tell, the only planes that refuel in mid air are fighter jets. Not really appropriate for a junior school Harvest Festival… never mind the issue of pollution and ‘food miles’.

So I picked up my grumpy-old-woman pen and dashed of a letter to the head teacher, extolling the virtues of good old-fashioned “We Plough the Fields and Scatter” – the tune of which is attributed (‘doubtful attribution’, says Hyperion Records) to a German, J.A.P. Schulz, but is actually more correctly linked to an English folksong John Barleycorn.

Today’s lesson: If you want to get your blog noticed, add some hymn lyrics! (Though I suppose it all depends what kind of traffic you want to attract…)

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* Kathryn's column this week is well worth reading if you're an enthusiastic participant in newgroups, blogs, social networking and virtual worlds.

Populism at the Proms – where Barenboim meets the Cybermen?

I can’t make my mind up about the Proms: is it good for the ‘classical music scene’, or pandering to populism?

I didn’t watch Saturday’s Last Night at the Proms, but I heard snippets on the radio while I did some chores. The performances were, as you’d expect, of a high standard, but the programme (i.e. pieces chosen) was, basically, unremarkable.

I can understand why people get worked up about the Royal Albert Hall gig. If you’re on the inside, there’s a great atmosphere, and that can be catching when you’re watching at home. What I can’t fathom is the Proms in the Park element.

I went to a few of the picnic-and-performance-type events at Kenwood (Hampstead) some years back when they were the ‘in thing’, but apart from the snob value of getting your candelabra out of your Fortnum & Mason’s picnic hamper, I didn’t get ‘it’. You couldn’t hear the music over the braying of the socialites; and I’m scared of fireworks, so that element of the proceedings is a write-off anyway.

Given that PitP has to be a September event, the odds are stacked against a pleasant evening’s chillin’ with your mates; far more likely to be genuinely chilled - to the point where blankets, raincoats, wellies and thermal undies are essential.

Why stand in the cold and the dark to catch a glimpse of a distant orchestra churning out the ‘pops’, and listen to Terry Wogan doing his ‘not-the-Eurovision-Song-Contest’ compère routine?

Is this really the impression the classic music ‘industry’ ought to be conveying? And is that really what the Proms are about?

No, I don’t think so. And it’s a shame that this is most people’s only encounter with the Proms, because there were a couple of great things worth shouting about (probably several more, but these are the ones I notice):

First was the Dr Who Prom, back in July. I was annoyed they’d canceled the Blue Peter fixture this year, mainly because that cut the child-friendly gigs from two down to one, but fair play to the BBC, the Dr Who Prom was spectacular. And hopefully the children will have subliminally picked up on the crucial role that orchestral music plays in TV and films.

Those Cybermen are a joke on their own, but once their ‘theme’ starts up and they come marching down the stairs into the Royal Albert Hall, they really were pretty terrifying. The two boys I’d taken with me looked very worried: they couldn’t find a sofa to hide behind!

Some of the critics panned Murray Gold’s music, but I’m now a convert – the show would be nothing without it, and it stood up well in a concert format.

The other items were predictable (except for the Mark-Anthony Turnage premier, which was most welcome), but you have to make concessions to the likely age of the audience. Mind you, the woman sitting next to me (who’d come on her own) confessed that she’d only come because she’s a Dr Who fan – particularly enamoured of David Tennant. And I bet she wasn’t the only one!

It’s too late now to “listen again” (the BBC i-player only had the concerts posted for a week), but apparently they’re going to show it on TV, so if you’re a Dr Who fan, or interested in the music, keep your eye on the BBC website for details.

The second great concert was something I hadn’t intended to listen to, but caught my attention when I was at my desk one evening. It was so spell-binding I had to stop work to listen. What was it?

Prom 38: West-Eastern Divan Orchestra

This is conductor Daniel Barenboim’s orchestra, which he formed in collaboration with the Palestinian philosopher Edward Said. Members are from both sides of the Arab-Israeli conflict. They’re young and they play together with great fervour.

It wasn’t just the excellent playing that got me hooked, though; it was the atmosphere in the RAH. Of course, when the audience had the chance to show their appreciation, they certainly did, but even before that, I could tell that they were enraptured – I don’t know how I knew. Maybe having been there just a week or so beforehand it was easy for me to be back there in my mind’s eye?

But more significantly, it took me straight back to the two live performances I’ve seen of Steve Reich’s The Cave. This work views the situation in the Middle East conflict from three different angles: Arab, Israeli and American. To someone like me, who hadn’t a clue about what goes on over there (other than that it’s a seemingly endless tragedy) it was a revelation. Whether or not you like Minimalist composers (and I really think you should!), and where ever you sit in the political spectrum, I highly recommend this – live, if possible. I also recommend Anthony Holden’s review of the 2006 performance at the Barbican; he says it all so much better than I ever could.

But finally, perhaps they have converted me to populism after all – I thought Sue Perkins did a grand job as a Maestro! (The only bit of the PitP I did see.) The series was entertaining and informative; just goes to show that getting “grades” doesn’t necessarily make you musical (Goldie vs Katie Derham, anyone?).

Weird radio

I don't usually listen to Classic FM, but my desk-side radio is still tuned in because I was working over the weekend (when R3 goes a bit jazzy).

I'm interested in demographics, and how advertisers tap in to same to get us all to buy stuff. But they've got me worried this morning.

My ear'oles were assaulted by a weird ad for the Classic FM chart show: "Will the Three Tenors knock the chanting monks off the top of the chart?" [Ans: "Do I give a damn?"] followed by the programme sponsor's 'ident' which went something like:

"The Classic FM chart, brought to you by Pedigree Joint Care - putting the bounce back into old dogs."

Conjures up some very strange images in my mind (surely Classic FM's listeners would be better off sticking to the Viagra?)